Lights, Camera, Action
by WhatTheF-ckHaveYouDoneLately
Summary: AU: Castiel Novak is one of NY's best photographers, and his life is about to get turned upside down when he meets the sexy model Dean Winchester at a photoshoot. He's kept a gaurded heart all of his life, but can he resist his attraction to Dean? SMUT.
1. Make a Move, See Me Now?

**Author's Note:**

**Okay, so...hmm, where do I start? I have a lot to say. For starters, hello to anyone that is reading this! Thanks for stopping by, hope you enjoy your stay :D I would like to first thank my friends Ash and Arielle, for without them this fic wouldn't exist. Arashi, you sent me that video and inspired me for a one-shot that has turned into a multichapter AU fic. Arielle, I am so very grateful for all of your help with this! I was kind of lost with chapter 2, so thank you for your guidance and advice :-)**

**I am not entirely sure of this fic, it was originally a 6 page long one-shot that I divided into two chapters, and I am working on a third. I think I will leave this first part up for a few days and see how it's recieved before I post any more. Next chapter is nothing but straight porn by the way, so yeah...you've been warned :P I didn't want to post this because I didn't want to try writing two fics at once (this and my other fic Ordinary Life) but I finally caved.**

**Kinda like it? Hate it? Ideas for improvement? Please tell me! Thanks for reading :D**

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><p>"<em>Mr. Photographer, I think I'm ready for my close up, tonight<em>

_Make sure you catch me from my good side, pick one_

_These other, ha, just wanna be me_

_Is that money in your pocket? Are you happy to see me?_

_Kill the lights_

_Take 'em out, turn 'em off, break 'em down_

_Kill the lights_

_Don't be scared, make a move, see me now?"_

_~Kill The Lights by Britney Spears_

"You're late!" the head of the photography department barked.

Castiel fumbled to attach the strap to his camera, pulling it over his head. "Sorry."

The burly man guided him deeper into the studio, Castiel blushing when he glanced into a room and saw a young woman photographing a couple kissing in nothing but tight jeans. Everyone laughed when he told them, but he was thirty-six and a virgin, so this whole setting was making him uncomfortable. He was a reputable photographer and had gotten a job doing the cover shoot for _Venice Garde, _a high class, racy Italian magazine now being sold in America. It paid a fortune apparently, and he'd been told he was assigned to one of their best looking models, the one privileged with being on the cover of their first American sold issue.

Finally he reached Studio Room 17, and waiting for him was…well, God come to Earth, quite possibly. A hot blush worked up Castiel's cheeks when he saw the cover model; a tall, muscled, short haired, green eyed beauty of a man with a charming smile and flirty wink waiting for Castiel when their eyes met. _This must be the infamous Dean Winchester_, Castiel thought, clearing his throat and reminding himself to act professional. Which wasn't easy for a gay man, his sexuality having been discovered the first time he almost had sex with his ex-girlfriend Meg, who hardly aroused him with her mousy whimpers and whines. She'd thrown him out the door in his underwear when he told her he wasn't getting anything out of it.

"You must be Castiel," Dean said, clad only in a soft white towel wrapped around his waist.

Castiel tore his eyes from the trail of dark hair going from the model's navel down to the edge of his towel. "Yes. Castiel Novak. Pleasure to meet you."

Dean's eyes darkened the moment Castiel spoke, the glint in his eyes suggesting he liked the rough, gravelly texture of the older man's voice. He shook Castiel's outstretched hand and introduced himself, drawing that same hand to his lips and kissing it before dropping it slowly. His lips sent sparks racing up the phtotgrapher's fingers. Castiel flushed to the roots of his tousled brown hair. Was this man coming on to him? Was he imagining the come hither look dancing in those emerald green eyes? Regardless of what the answer to either of those questions might have been, Castiel had to tear himself away and make busy while the crew whisked Dean off to get dressed. That had been…sexual, if the very inexperienced Castiel knew it when he saw it. The look in those eyes had him blushing even after Dean was gone from the studio they'd be doing the shoot in. He cursed himself for being so easily effected as he mounted his camera on a tripod, pulling his specialty lenses from his camera case.

Not five minutes later, a voice said from behind him, "Nice coat."

Castiel nearly jumped out of his skin as he turned and nearly got a face full of Dean's…oh god. The photographer fell backwards when he came eye to eye with Dean's very sizeable manhood, which couldn't have been more than two inches from his face. The handsome model was stark naked, smirking and holding a black fedora in his left hand. Castiel was blushing more profusely than he'd ever blushed before, which was saying something since his face had felt aflame after Dean had kissed his hand only minutes ago.

"Are you ready?" he asked hoarsely, awkwardly fiddling with the hem of his trench coat.

Dean smiled suggestively and pulled Castiel up, right against him, his naked body flush with the older man's. "Are you?"

_He had to flirt with me, didn't he? He couldn't be straight, he couldn't be ugly, he couldn't completely and totally ignore my existence, could he?_ Castiel thought desperately. He'd never had this much sexual tension between himself and the subject of his photography before. No one else knew it, but he'd always found something erotic in taking pictures of beautiful people, and this was the worst time possible for that secret kink to perk up, along with something else he'd rather not specify.

"People are watching us," he stuttered awkwardly.

"'Course they are gorgeous, we're in a studio," Dean said calmly.

Castiel pointedly ignored the model calling him gorgeous. "We should get on with this."

Dean smirked and used the untied belt of his coat to pull him even closer. "Couldn't agree more."

"With the _shoot_," Castiel hissed, backing shakily out of Dean's grip, grabbing his camera and positioning himself several feet behind the flat gray backdrop Dean would be standing in front of.

Unfazed as ever, the younger man stood in front of the backdrop, assuming such a provocative position that Castiel thought he might die (or come) right then and there. He folded his hands behind his hand, leaned back against the backdrop, and hung the fedora on his erection. Castiel's blush and arousal only deepened when he recalled feeling the model's manhood pressed up against him moments prior, hardening in their proximity. _He'd_ given Dean that erection. This man was going to be the death of him before he managed to get out of here for the day.

Castiel held his camera up in front of him and zoomed in just right before taking a series of snapshots of Dean in the same position, altering the zoom and angle only slightly in each one. Then he motioned for Dean to change positions, grateful that the model was well used to photographers and was familiar with the subtle hand gestures that commanded a move here, a lifting of the head there. It made it so much easier to work. And not to mention Castiel feared if he engaged Dean in any form of conversation then he'd end up with another sultry innuendo that made him want to let Dean drag him into some dark corner and have his way with him.

Dean turned with his back to the camera, placing the fedora on his head and looking over his shoulder at the camera with an expression so lustful that it said without debate, _Come here and let me fuck you, handsome. _It was that blatantly lewd, and it was only a facial expression. Castiel shivered at the idea of what actions might follow such an expression. He took another series of pictures, trying his best not to appreciate the view of Dean's perfectly shaped, toned ass.

The session became one very sensual blur, Castiel finding what should be a strictly professional experience something so boldly erotic that his blood was pounding in his ears and rushing down to his groin. Most of the crew hung back unobtrusively, but by this point, almost an hour of pictures later, Castiel felt like he could probably have sex with Dean right there, heedless of the eyes upon them. As soon as the thought passed his mind, he asked himself, _What the hell is wrong with you? What happened to being the awkward little virgin that blushed at the _word _"sex," let alone imagining having it in front of ten some odd people with a man you met a grand total of an hour ago?_

Shaking off that voice, he stood up and informed Dean they were finished. He pulled his camera back over his neck and started packing his equipment back into its cases, keeping busy to hopefully avoid any further contact with Dean. Most people overlooked the shy, awkward photographer, his lightly muscled body hidden under layers of clothing. But Dean…the model had taken to him instantly, charming him and flirting with him. Castiel chastised himself for allowing it to work.

"So, Cass," Dean said, casually dragging his fingers through the older man's hair.

"Hello Dean," Castiel breathed, shivering at the sensation.

Dean crouched down behind where Cass was crouched as well and leaned forwards, his breath tickling the back of his neck. "Let's get out of here."

Castiel's mouth was open to protest when he felt the palm of Dean's hand press into his crotch. He stifled a moan and tensed, his hand dropping from the case he'd just zipped up. Dean then took his hardness in a bruising grip, squeezing it roughly. Cass moaned gutturally and dropped his head back against Dean's shoulder, falling out of his crouching position and landing on the floor. His mind was too scrambled to even process what was going on, his cock too hard for him to remember his name.

Dean started rubbing Cass through his pants and the photographer's legs fell apart, his hips arching up into Dean's hand. The model smirked and leaned close to Castiel's ear. "That's right, spread 'em like a whore for me," he whispered hoarsely.

"Please," Cass moaned, rocking his hips against the younger man's hand.

Dean smirked against the back of Castiel's neck. "I know just the place."

And Castiel, God help him, uttered not one syllable of protest.


	2. I Want To Feel You From The Inside

**Author's Note:**

**How can I possibly thank you all properly for your positively AMAZING FEEDBACK? I was not expecting the onslaught of reviews, but sure enough you guys just kept them coming! Sorry again for the late replies, but as I said, I lost Internet :P This is part two of the original one-shot, but now I pose a question that is up to all of you: shall we leave it here or keep going?**

**Warnings for explicit lyrics and graphic sex! Oh and I know I now spell Castiel's nickname "Cass" instead of "Cas" but when I saw it was spelt Cass in the promo for the new episode, I realized I was spelling it wrong.**

***bone crushing virtual hugs and shirtless Misha to all* THANK YOU!**

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><p>"<em>I want to fuck you like an animal<em>

_I want to feel you from the inside_

_I want to fuck you like an animal_

_My whole existence is flawed_

_You get me closer to God."_

_~Closer by Nine Inch Nails_

Thankfully the crew had left as soon as the shoot was over, leaving the photographer to repack his equipment, so no one was there to see it when Dean stood up and grabbed Castiel's hand, dragging him into the dressing room that was also where hair and makeup was done. The virgin was so out of his mind with need that he barely even processed it as Dean pushed his trench coat off his shoulders, letting it drop to the floor before pushing him into the wall. Their groins grinded together, both of the men moaning wantonly at the pressure.

Dean braced his hands on the wall on either side of Castiel's head and leaned in, forcefully kissing him. Cass wound his fingers through Dean's all too short hair, opening his mouth. Dean took Castiel's tongue into his mouth and began sucking on it, hollowing his cheeks and sucking as if it was Castiel's cock in his mouth. Castiel shuddered at that mental image and shook weakly against Dean. His mental voice tried to nag him about losing his virginity to a man he barely knew, but he beat that voice down and told it to shut the fuck up. He was beyond caring at this point.

Cass spun them so Dean was against the wall and didn't hesitate as he dropped to his knees in front of the model. He licked the head of Dean's cock experimentally, the bittersweet taste of precome surprisingly arousing. This was obviously the first time he'd done this, but that didn't stop him from wrapping his mouth around the head of the model's dick and worrying it with his tongue. Dean moaned loudly and grabbed Castiel's hair in one hand, dragging the man forwards.

Gifted with a practically non existent gag reflex, Castiel took it in stride when he was forced closer and took the length of Dean's sizeable hardness into his mouth, sucking it and rubbing his tongue along the underside. Dean was moaning uncontrollably now, thrusting wildly into Castiel's mouth as he neared the brink. He felt his cock against the back of the older man's throat, and then he was done for. Castiel swallowed down Dean's come as he climaxed hard and fast, his dick spasming in Castiel's mouth. Cass was a little surprised he managed to keep it all down and swallow it without gagging out of instinct, but his mouth had been thoroughly fucked by the time he pulled off of the younger man's cock and looked up at Dean with a torrid blue gaze.

Dean pulled Cass up and backed him against the counter in front of the wall of mirrors, sealing their lips together. Castiel slid his tongue into Dean's mouth, the taste of the model's come mixing into the kiss. Dean moaned and grabbed a handful of Cass' thick, dark hair, pulling on it and eliciting a throaty moan from the older man. Castiel shivered somewhat nervously as Dean stripped him of his remaining clothes, his toes curling in anticipation. The cold air of the room hit him as Dean pulled his underwear down, Cass stepping out of them and shuddering as his aching erection was exposed. Dean's hands roamed all over his body, over his lightly muscled abdomen and taut buttocks.

Castiel didn't resist when Dean picked him up and sat him on the counter, his legs wrapping around the taller man's waist and grinding their dicks together again. They moaned together and Cass tightened his legs, dropping his head back against the mirror behind him and rutting his cock against Dean's. It felt so fucking good, but dammit it wasn't _enough_. He needed Dean inside him, wanted to feel that massive erection inside his tight, hot passage.

"Please," he begged, his voice even rougher than usual from his fucked out throat.

"Not yet…" Dean said hoarsely.

Castiel gave him a look that clearly asked, _Why. The. Hell. NOT?_

The smirk playing on Dean's lips just as clearly conveyed that he was up to no good. Pushing himself away from Cass, he picked up the camera that he'd taken off of the photographer's neck earlier, holding it up and smiling wickedly. Castiel's heart started beating irregularly in his chest. Dean couldn't mean…no. Did he? Oh god…Castiel shuddered, suddenly feeling exposed and naked in more ways than one. Using photography as a sexual kink…did Dean know how to press his buttons? Oh yes. That much was obvious. Cass had never even _considered_ taking pictures of something this blatantly risqué.

"So…whaddya say, Cass?" Dean asked seductively, dangling the camera by its strap.

The older man was silent but compliant as he took the camera and set it on automatic. It would take pictures every five seconds and save them to the memory card. Castiel figured he might live to regret this, but what a way to lose his virginity. _Look on the bright side, you can put pictures of baby's first screw in the baby book now! _chimed a mental voice that sounded suspiciously like his cousin Gabriel. He shook it off and moved the camera down the counter, positioning it so it would capture almost every moment of what was about to follow. God, he couldn't believe he was doing this. So much for good, innocent, Catholic raised Castiel Novak.

Dean leaned Cass back, pulling his legs up over his shoulders. He slowly slid a finger inside the virgin's tight entrance, Castiel hissing at the burn. But then as a second one was pushed in, he felt himself begin to relax, his muscles loosening a bit to allow the intrusion. Before long Dean had three fingers inside, crooking and stretching the passage. Castiel moaned and dropped his head back against the mirror, barely even aware of the flashes of his camera. He fucked himself on Dean's fingers, clenching and unclenching around them.

He whimpered a little at the empty feeling he got when Dean pulled out, but the removal made sense when he saw the model pull a condom and small bottle of lubricant from a drawer under the counter. Dean slipped the condom on, slicked up his cock and fingers with lube, and made sure Castiel's entrance was good and prepared before pulling them out again. At this point the photographer was an out of breath, panting mess underneath Dean. _I love virgins…_Dean thought.

Castiel breathed out a soft cry as Dean pushed into him, his latex sheathed erection fitting snugly in his entrance. He arched up, his face flushed with arousal. He felt so _full_, so…there were no words for it. Dean was no small man, and Castiel feeling like he was in Heaven with pleasure when the model finally sunk into his entrance all the way to his balls. Cass shuddered and braced his hands on the counter on either side of him, the cold marble a startling contrast with the heat filling his tight body. Just when he thought there couldn't be a greater ecstasy than what he felt right at that moment, Dean started thrusting into him.

"Oh god," Castiel moaned. "Harder."

Dean started pounding Cass against the counter and mirror, watching the older man's face contort with pleasure as he struck the nerve filled prostate. Castiel and Dean were both moaning loudly; people _definitely_ must have figured out what they were up to in there by now. Between the moans and the repeated _thump_ of Castiel's body being knocked into the mirror, there was no doubt what was going on. But neither of them cared, they went at it like there was no tomorrow, their bodies moving in synch and their breathing escalating with each thrust of Dean's hips.

"Dean, I think I'm close," Castiel gasped, shaking.

The model nodded what seemed to be his agreement and reached down, grasping Castiel's erect cock and stroking it up and down. Cass made a noise of pure pleasure as Dean thumbed the sensitive tip, his thumb collecting the drops of pre-come. The closer Castiel got to climax, the harder Dean's thrusts and the rougher his strokes became.

"Oh fuck yeah Cass," Dean breathed out in a voice that was more of a moan than a sentence.

He writhed and arched and moaned beneath Dean, his body shaking with desperate need to release. Dean fucked him relentlessly, sweat slicking their bodies and filling the room with the scent of fever, pleasure, and pre-come that could only be sex. They were both so close that each individual thrust drug them closer to the edge.

When Cass finally came, it was like nothing he'd ever felt before. It was like flying, like falling, like every rush he'd ever experienced only it was a hundred times better. He arched up off the counter, gasping for breath as the force of it crashed over him and sucked him into a dizzying whirl of pleasure. For a moment he thought his vision actually flashed white from the force of it, but then he realized it was the camera flash. He finally came down from his high, his heartbeat was still trying to regulate and his breathing was uneven. Dean had come with him, and Cass winced as the model eased out of his hole.

Dean peeled the condom off and flicked it in the trash can. "Holy shit, man…that was like, the best fuck of my life _squared_."

Cass nodded and sat up, drowsily dropping his head forwards against Dean's chest. "That was amazing. I'm glad you were my first."

"I'm pretty glad I was your first too," Dean said, thinking about kissing the top of Cass' head and then deciding it was too girly.

Castiel rested there for a few moments before reaching for his camera, plucking the memory card out and laying it down for a moment while he got dressed. What he wanted to do was sit there on the counter all day, contently laying against Dean's chest (especially since he was walking with a little bit of a limp), but he had to get dressed and get going. He had another appointment in half an hour and someone was bound to need this dressing room eventually. It was a miracle they'd managed not to get caught yet.

When he turned around, Dean was holding the memory card up, which contained not only the pictures Cass needed from the photoshoot but also the god-only-knows-how-many pictures that had been taken of the two of them…_well, you know_. "You can have this on two conditions."

Cass narrowed his eyes. "Dean, give that back."

The model ignored him. "One, you give me your phone number. Two, I give you my email address and you send me the pictures of me fucking you."

"You…want to stay in touch?" Castiel asked in surprise. He'd figured Dean wouldn't care about seeing him again after this was over.

Dean just smiled, so Cass smiled back and said, "You have a deal."

He wrote down his phone number, Dean wrote down his email address on a piece of paper that he tucked down the front of Castiel's slacks, and then he finally handed Castiel the memory card. Cass shifted nervously for a moment before leaning up and kissing Dean long and deep, lingering for several moments before pulling away. Dean smiled at him as he walked away, Castiel taking a deep breath as he exited the building. The flights of stairs he took seemed longer, his camera seemed heavier, and the air that wafted over him once he got out to the parking lot seemed staler. He felt like everything that had just happened was either one huge mistake or the best decision he'd ever made in his life.

He just hadn't figured out which yet.


	3. But I'll Show You a Real Good Time

**Author's Note:**

***staring at review count, blinking and stuttering...notices the people staring at me virtually and grins sheepishly* Heh...hello, don't mind the poor shocked fangirl that still can't get over how this has gotten such an amazing response. I have no idea what I did to deserve your feedback, but THANK YOU!**

**The first half of this chapter is Dean's P.O.V., a very helpful suggestion given to me by Haruka The-Dark-Angel :-) And also thanks to Arielle, this would have sucked out loud without you and you know why! Of course I love every single one of you to tiny pieces, so please know how much I appreciate your feedback and I hope this doesn't disappoint you! I have found my plot, so expect quite a few chapters. Yes, the lyrics slightly contradict the fact Dean is loaded, but the rest of it suits the chapter perfectly and COME ON I saw a Destiel vid to it, how could I resist?**

***holds out platter with shirtless SPN cast member of your choice on it* ;D**

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><p><em>"I'm gonna take you out tonight<em>

_I'm gonna make you feel alright_

_I don't have a lot of money but we'll be fine_

_No I don't have a penny but I'll show you a real good time."_

_~New In Town by Little Boots_

Dean walked into the foyer, throwing his leather coat over a chair and stretching his arms above his head. He couldn't get Castiel's image out of his head, couldn't stop reliving the way their skin pressed together…couldn't stop thinking about a man he barely knew. Dean Winchester was a name known to both men and women as the king of, as he'd put it, "love 'em and leave 'em." He still found himself unable to figure out what it was about Castiel that had him wanting to see the man again. The blue eyes? The pornographic moans? The shyness he exuded when they first met? It could have been all of those plus a few other random traits, but that didn't help Dean pinpoint exactly why he felt so drawn to the gorgeous photographer.

"Long day?" asked Sam, his younger brother and fellow model.

Dean smirked. "It had its perks."

"Oh no," Sam groaned. "The photographer or the assistant this time?"

"Photographer. Fuck, Sammy, he's gorgeous."

"What does he looked like?" Sam asked, curious despite himself.

"Brown I-had-rough-sex-and-loved-it hair, built just the way I like, and damn he's got the bluest eyes I've ever seen."

Sam chuckled. "He doesn't sound too bad. But Dean, you know you can't get into a committed relationship, not with…you know." His face suddenly looked a little more solemn.

"Yeah, I do know. But that won't stop me from fucking him at least one more time."

"Do you have to be so crude?"

"'Course I do Sammy."

With that, Dean went up to his room and kicked off his shoes by the door. He shared a house with three other models and a fashion designer; Sam, Sam's boyfriend Gabriel, Anna, and their newest addition, an up and coming fashion designer named Balthazar. All in all they were pretty easy to live with and left Dean alone when he needed space, so he was happy where he was. No one complained when he brought his conquests home, not that they had any room to talk. Anna was just as bad as he was, Sam and Gabriel were louder than Dean cared to talk about, and Balthazar drug even more men in and out of the house than Dean did.

He plopped down at his desk and logged onto to his computer, his fingers drumming impatiently against the wooden workspace as the flat screen desktop hummed to life. It was one of the quickest computers on the market, but time still seemed to pass too slowly as he opened his email. He was dying to see the pictures from earlier…and so was his little _friend_, who was currently stirring restlessly in his jeans at the thought of the aforementioned photographs.

_You have no new emails in your inbox, _read the screen.

Cursing softly, he logged off and pulled out his cell phone. He wasn't really the type to nag, but he was _not_ letting Castiel get away with not sending those pictures. Dialing the photographer's number, he leaned back in his desk chair. Earlier had been mind blowing even by _his_ standards. Virgins were always fun, but Castiel? Damn…Dean hadn't been lying when he'd told Castiel it was the best fuck of his life squared.

"Hello?" said a sexily low voice, a voice Dean had loved from the moment Castiel introduced himself at the shoot.

Dean smirked. "Hey. Miss me, gorgeous?"

"Dean," Castiel breathed. "I uh, where did you get my phone number?"

"You gave it to me, remember?"

"Oh, yes, of course. So um…what are you doing?" Cass asked awkwardly.

Dean laughed, thoroughly enjoying how uncomfortable the former virgin was. "Checking my email…care to give me something more interesting to look at than the spam emails for very unneeded prevention against erectile dysfunction? But you already know it's unneeded, don't you?" he added, still smirking.

"Y-yes, yes I do," stammered the photographer. "I'll send those pictures now."

"Great. And hey, before you go…" Dean was not letting Cass worm his way out of this, no matter how embarrassed the older man was to be having a phone conversation with the same model that had fucked his brains out against a mirror not too long ago.

"Yes?"

"You. Me. Dinner. What do you say?"

A stunned silence, then: "Dean, are you asking me out a date?"

"I'll take that as a yes. See you in two hours."

Snapping the phone shut, Dean grinned to himself and strode over to his closet so he could change into something for his date. His mind kept screaming that he shouldn't, that he _couldn't_ do this, but he ignored it like always. He had no right to be committing to Castiel, it was unfair and there was no doubt it would end badly, but he was drawn to that blue eyed man like a moth to a flame. The memory of Castiel's body pressed against his was haunting him, seething in his mind and sending a rush of blood down the length of his body every time he thought about it.

After dressing in his best date clothes (tight black jeans a dark green silk dress shirt that brought out his eyes), he got Castiel's address offline. His apartment doubled as a studio, so finding him was a cinch. Dean was already thinking of all the unique places he could take Cass; dark, intimate places where the lights of the candles would illuminate the depths of those entrancing blue eyes. The image was so deliciously tantalizing that Dean nearly shivered in his eagerness. He was sure that the photos he pined for were sitting in his inbox, but he still had to decide where he wanted to make reservations. Castiel lived twenty minutes away, but with evening New York traffic, that amount very well might end up tripled. So unfortunately the pictures would have to wait.

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><p>Castiel was five minutes early when he walked out in front of his apartment to wait for Dean, but the man was already there, leaning against a beautiful black 1967 Impala. His green eyes roaming up and down the length of Castiel's body, he said, "Well, look at you. Coming five minutes early…that's what I call punctuality."<p>

"I try to-" Castiel then cut himself off, catching the double meaning.

Dean opened the passenger's side door like a perfect gentleman, closing it behind Castiel when he got in. Cass was so nervous that he drummed his fingers against his leg just to hide that they were shaking. Some people say that haven't been on a date in a decade, and some people actually mean it. He fell into the latter category. Shy and sensitive, his disastrous college relationship had left him cut off from dating and he always made up an excuse not to whenever someone tried to ask him out.

Why was Dean so different? That was the question that Castiel just couldn't figure out. For years he had refrained from letting himself be close to anyone, but he'd practically fallen into Dean's arms without a second thought. This beautiful, strange man was so sexy, so damnably hypnotic…and Castiel knew he was victim to it beyond his control. Even now, he was in Dean's car, being whisked off to some unknown place. The model was so brazen that he called Castiel, set up a time, and hung up without even confirming that Cass agreed to it. He just assumed Castiel was too drawn to him to resist.

Unfortunately for Castiel's pride, his assumptions were frustratingly accurate.

"Welcome to Devi," Dean said, switching the ignition off awhile later as they parked in front of an elaborate building.

Castiel pressed his lips together in a tight, worried line. "Dean, this is one of the most expensive restaurants in the city."

"And I have freckles even though you can't see them in most lighting. Are we done with the irrelevant facts yet? I sure hope so, I'm starving."

"But Dean!" Castiel exclaimed, stunned by the model's nonchalance.

"Trust me, I'm not hard pressed for money," Dean replied simply.

Cass walked inside, his arm having been taken by Dean as they cut across the parking lot. The inside was dimly lit, white tablecloths covering the dark wooden tables. An elegant, dark haired woman was their hostess, and after Dean explained he had a reservation for two listed under Winchester, she smiled and politely escorted them to their table. There were plenty of people milling about, but the spacing of the tables made it feel less crowded…more romantic. The establishment was practically seething with a sensual atmosphere.

After they were seated, Cass fidgeted in his seat and picked at the hem of his shirt. "Dean…this is beautiful, and you're amazing, but I can't…"

"Welcome to Devi, may I take your order?" asked the waitress, appearing at the side of the table.

Dean smiled. "A bottle of my usual wine please, and whatever Castiel wants."

"I'll just have some of what he's having, thank you," Cass said, polite but tense.

"Here are you menus, I will leave you two to look at our appetizers while I get your drinks," she said with a smile, handing them their menus and walking away with her auburn ponytail swinging.

"I don't even know how to pronounce half of this," Cass muttered, staring at the long list of Indian cuisine.

"Just pick what sounds good. That's what I did when I first came here."

"This is so new…I've lived in New York my whole life, but I don't eat out much. I only go out to eat when my sister Anna's in town, she loves it when I take her out."

Dean chuckled. "Well I was brought up in Lawrence, Kansas, so I sounded like a small town hick when my dad first brought me to a 'fancy uptown restaurant,' which is what I called them back then."

"How does someone from Kansas end up in New York as a model?" Cass asked, unable to help himself.

"My brother was hell bent on getting out of Kansas to pursue a modeling career, but when he moved up here and we flew up to celebrate with him, I ended up falling in love with it. Modeling, the city…the kind of people I meet. Wouldn't trade it for anything. Hard to believe I used to be a mechanic working in my dad's auto repair shop, huh?"

"Not really. You're not conceited like a lot of people that live here…you're confident and lewd, but you don't walk around like everyone should feel privileged to breathe your air."

"What about you? You grew up here but you don't act like that either."

Castiel averted his gaze, his eyes staring out one of the windows to his left but looking so much further away. "I didn't have world's best college experience…I guess you could say it humbled me. Being a photographer means a lot of people, but I don't actually make friends with them. There are some people in the world that aren't scared to beat you down until you realize just how inferior you are to everyone else," he said bitterly. Then he thought, _Why am I saying all of this? I barely know Dean. But then again, maybe if he thinks I'm a damaged nut job, he'll tuck tail and run and I won't have to worry about getting attached and having my heart broken again._

"Yeah, and there are some people in the world that just want to know you as an equal…that view you as something special," Dean started, his fingers trailing over Castiel's as they grazed the menu. Their faces were extremely close, the tension nearly palpable. "Something special, something sexy…" His voice dropped to a low murmur, his mouth drawing closer to Cass' ear. "Something that I could fuck every day, over and over, until you couldn't take it anymore and begged me to stop."

The entirety of Castiel's body was flushed and searing with heat, his mind telling him to run while he still could, his body telling him to once more succumb and let Dean give him that satisfaction he was so desperately craving. The model had taken him to new places, to the very height of human pleasure. And God help him, he wanted that again, he wanted it more than anything. He wanted this crude, terrifyingly wonderful man to throw him down and dominate him; to feel Dean inside of him, thrusting and hard.

"Dean…" he started to whisper, his voice cracking due to his suddenly dry throat.

Then the waitress appeared, ready to take their orders. Leaning back, Dean gave Cass a look that clearly said, _This isn't over._

And honestly, Castiel didn't want it to be.


	4. You Take The Breath Right Out of Me

***Smut, lewdness…well, you've made it this far, so you're already used to that. Again, this is both POVs because I've found that I really love writing Dean's lol. Thanks to all of the amazing reviewers that have stuck with me and offered continuous encouragement! **

**Btw, I've got a rather long day to be getting off to, so I won't be replying to reviews until later today!**

"_So sacrifice yourself, and let me have what's left_

_I know that I can find the fire in your eyes_

_I'm going all the way, get away_

_You take the breath right out of me_

_You left a hole where my heart should be_

_You've gotta fight just to make it through_

'_Cause I will be the death of you…"_

_~Breath by Breaking Benjamin_

Castiel had no idea dates involved so much sexual tension. When he got his appetizer, he was acutely aware of Dean watching him, though he really didn't have a foot to stand on because he did the same thing when the model got his. They watched each other eat, used a little more tongue than strictly necessary, and essentially got nothing accomplished but pants that felt about five times tighter than they had earlier in the evening. Conversation was pretty much a lost cause since Dean always managed to work in an innuendo that had Castiel turning six shades of red.

But still the photographer tried to break the tense silence. "So, um…enjoying your meat?"

"I'd rather be eating yours."

Conversation. Is. Pointless. Castiel tried to drill that into his head before his face got so hot that it caught on fire. As they ate, Dean's hand strayed to Castiel's knee. It was a simple gesture until that hand started wandering a bit further up. Cass shifted uncomfortably, trying to get out of what was about to turn into a very, very bad situation. _Or a very, very good one, _mused the darker part of his mind. He reached down to grab Dean's hand so he could pull it off, his fingers closing around the model's.

He surprised them both when he slid it even higher up.

Cass tried to tell himself that his body was acting on its own accord, but his mind was perfectly aware of what he was doing as he rubbed Dean's hand against his leg. Never in his life had he imagined he would be doing something like this in _public_, where people might see them, but one look at Dean's daring smirk had him letting go of all reservations. It was the same feeling of helpless desire that had overcome him at the photo shoot. All thoughts disappeared that told him to let go of Dean's hand…they faded like they'd never existed to begin with.

Dean slid his hand up to Castiel's inner thigh, so close to the older man's growing erection that Cass wanted to scream. He hated how weak his voice sounded when he gave a gutturally whispered, "Please."

The model cupped Castiel's crotch, palming it lightly. Cass bit down on his lip hard enough to draw blood, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to hold back the noise of pleasure he wanted so desperately to release. He fought to even his breathing; no one had caught on yet, but it wouldn't be long before people started noticing his erotic expressions and the suspicious absence of Dean's left hand. The photographer still could barely believe he was actually _doing_ this.

Trying to cling to the tattered remnants of his senses, Castiel breathed, "We shouldn't…oh _God_, Dean, _yes_," he moaned.

Damn Dean Winchester. He'd found Castiel's very simple give-in point. The protests were cut off when Dean gave his crotch a hard squeeze, his fingers pressing into Castiel's cock through his pants. Cass flushed to the roots of his hair as he ducked his head, cursing himself for letting Dean elicit such a loud reaction from him. A few people glanced over in their direction, but Dean smiled calmly back at them as if nothing was going on even as he rubbed Castiel to painful hardness. His hand slipped inside, and Cass' head dropped back against his chair with a throaty moan as Dean's fingers touched his bare erection. People were_ derfinitely_ going to be figuring it out now.

"Get me out of here," he growled, his body shaking with need and his legs opening.

Dean gave his trademark smirk. "I wish you could see how sexy you look right now…legs spread, begging to be fucked…I could take you right here on this table."

"Get me _out,_" Castiel growled, his voice lower and deeper if that was even possible.

There was something inside of Castiel that he'd never felt before; something wild, something darkly alluring. After an entire life of being guarded and afraid, his body was dying to let go, to chase after what he wanted and throw logic out the window. And Dean was the man that brought out that side. As scary as these new feelings may be, Cass relished them. He felt more alive than he had in all of his thirty-six years.

Dean called for the check (his hand not once leaving its aforementioned position, damn that model all to hell), and Cass fought to keep his composure when the waitress came over and handed it to Dean. All he could make sense of was the feeling of Dean's fingers driving him crazy. He tried to breathe out that he'd pay half of what was bound to be an astronomical bill, but Dean told him he'd have no such thing. Cass may have tried another protest had his mind not been too scrambled to form a second coherent sentence; the first one was hard enough. _Speaking of hard, these slacks are getting uncomfortable…_

Abandoning his half eaten Chicken Manchurian, he let Dean take his hand and lead him out the doors, his cock throbbing between his legs. The feel of the model's hand wrapped around his own felt so intense that he feared it would burn his skin. Dean was calm as ever as he led them out into the parking lot, so no heads were turned. Thankfully no one seemed to glance at the bulging nether regions of the men's bodies. The tight jeans and form fitting dress slacks didn't leave much to the imagination.

Castiel quickly learned that Dean wasn't as smug and unaffected as he'd pretended to be in the restaurant. As soon as they were outside, he pinned Cass to the side of the Impala and kissed him hard, his tongue entering the photographer's mouth when it opened in a gasp. Cass wrapped both arms around Dean's neck and moaned into the kiss, their achingly hard erections pressed together through the confinement of their pants. Not only was his head swarmed with a lust that refused to recede, but he couldn't get over how safe and terrifyingly vulnerable he felt in Dean's arms. Mysterious and allusive as the model may be, Cass realized that he trusted this man…more than his guarded heart was ready for.

It registered that twenty years later, he'd finally let himself rely on someone again.

"Get in the car," Dean panted, pulling open the back door to the Impala.

Cass stared at him in disbelief. "We're in the middle of a _parking lot_."

"Alright, have it your way then."

Seemingly just to prove a point, Dean got down on his knees in front of Castiel and undid the zipper and clasp on his pants, leaning forward as if to suck him off right then and there. Cass grabbed Dean's hair and yanked him up, pulling them into the car. He may not be as reserved as he used to be, but one thing he wasn't ready for was being arrested for indecent exposure. Dean chuckled as Cass pulled him into the backseat, the photographer reaching over and pulling the door closed behind them. The model had discovered that one surefire way to get what you want is starting to go down on someone in public.

Their clothes were torn off and strewn around the small space, both of them moaning at the feel of skin to skin contact. Dean sat back against the seat (he'd made quick work of sliding a condom once his pants were off) and pulled Castiel onto his lap, kissing the photographer again. Cass tangled his fingers in Dean's short hair, pressing his dick against Dean's. Dean made quick work of loosening up the older man, stretching him until his pleas for more were nothing but broken, choked noises of desire. Castiel was literally shaking by the time Dean finally removed his fingers from his entrance.

Castiel straddled Dean, his knees pressing into the leather of the seat as he gripped Dean's shoulders and slowly lowered himself onto the model's erect cock. He winced at the penetration but didn't relent until Dean was inside of him to the hilt. Shuddering, he leant his face against Dean's shoulder while his body adjusted. Just earlier in the day he'd been losing his virginity, and now here he was hours later in the back of a car with his sweat dampened skin sticking to the leather of the seat.

"Please, just _move,_" Dean moaned.

Pressing his face tighter to the model's shoulder, Castiel began to slowly rock his body, Dean's hands on his hips guiding him. He eased himself up and down as well as back and forth, a strangled groan catching in his throat at the friction. His mind told him to take it slow, but his body screamed _more, more, more._ Digging his nails into Dean's forearms, he began thrusting faster, crying out at the feel of Dean's hardness moving inside him. Dean moaned, his head falling back against the seat and his back arching.

Then Cass lost _all_ control. Throwing his head back in ecstasy, he began humping Dean feverishly. The smell of sweat and pre-come permeated the car as his body lost itself in a heart pounding rhythm. They held on to each other tightly, Castiel's hand gripping Dean's shoulder with so much force that a bruise formed under it. But even then they didn't stop; they went faster and harder. Cass was rutting against Dean like a bitch in heat and God help him he loved it.

"Dean," Castiel half moaned, half screamed. His body was so close to releasing that he could _feel it_.

Dean lifted Castiel by the hips and pulled him up, only the head of his cock remaining inside. Then he forcefully shoved Castiel back down all the way, the photographer letting out a scream as his body careened into an orgasm that had him inches away from blacking out. Dean felt Cass tighten around him and came too; they held each other tighter than ever as they tried to remember what it felt like to think, to remember their names, to even _breathe_. The bruise on Dean's arm appeared to be more of an imprint, shaped exactly like his lover's hand.

Trembling, Cass collapsed against Dean's chest much like he had the first time. Now that the force of his climax was fading, his entire body felt like it weighed five tons. He was so exhausted he could barely hold his eyes open. Dean's arms wrapped around him, holding him securely. He felt the model's lips press against the top of his heads in a gentle kiss. What had just conspired could be classified as nothing other than mindless fucking, but with that in mind, why was Cass still laden with emotion?

* * *

><p>Dean could feel Castiel's breathing even out some time later and knew that he was asleep. Wrapping Cass in his discarded trench coat, he carefully lowered the sleeping photographer onto the seat. Getting dressed in the enclosed space was far from easy, but somehow Dean managed. He gave Castiel one last chaste kiss on the forehead before getting out and sliding into the driver's seat. The sex had been incredible to say the least, but he'd felt a foreign sense of intimacy as he'd cradled Cass against him afterwards. He was getting close…too close.<p>

He glanced at the rearview mirror, at his sleeping lover, wishing he was strong enough to save Cass from the hurt that Dean knew would fall upon him if this continued. But he wasn't. As damnable as his weakness was, he wanted to know Cass, he wanted to be the one that fucked him until he screamed, he wanted _more_ than just that tight little body…he wanted to know the man hiding behind the façade of a guarded, quiet photographer. Tonight he'd seen a glimpse of something wild and beautiful, he wanted to bring out _that_ Castiel. The real Castiel.

The pain was going to kill them both, but as he looked back at the sleeping man, only one thought went through his head.

_My Castiel._


	5. You're Not The Answer I Should Know

***Hope this isn't too filler-ish! Thanks times a million to all of you amazing reviewers out there :D**

"_You're not the answer I should know_

_Like all the boys before, like all the boys before_

_We're under the sheets and you're killing me_

_In our house made of paper, your words all over me_

_We're under the sheets and you're killing me."_

_~Under The Sheets by Ellie Goulding_

Castiel awoke in his bed, the comforter draped over his naked body. He was aching from the evening prior and could only vaguely recall falling asleep in the back of Dean's car. Smiling faintly, he snuggled deeper into his pillows. It had been one hell of a night. He could still smell Dean's cologne on himself, still feel Dean's arms wrapped around him. Cass was more content than he'd been in years. Jimmy would be thrilled when he heard that Cass had finally found a man that he actually cared about; Castiel's twin had been worried sick about him since the fateful disaster in college. Dean could very easily be the type to get Castiel hooked and then turn around and leave him heartbroken, but Cass was finally willing to take that chance, because there was equal possibility that Dean Winchester just might be the man that was going to treat him right.

Dean was already gone when Cass wandered into the kitchen wrapped in his short, black silk robe, but the photographer expected him to be. However, there was a note on the coffee maker. _"Have an early shoot to get to. See you soon, gorgeous. -Dean". _Cass smiled once more at his lover's almost indecipherable handwriting. Last night it was like something in him had broken. A wall had crumbled, his guards had fallen. He was so light at heart that he felt he could walk on air if he set his recently unburdened mind to it. The digital clock on the nightstand had told him that he'd slept until nine-thirty, but he didn't have his first shoot until eleven, so for once he sat at his table and ate breakfast without a care in the world. He'd get dressed, shower, and pick his favorite shots from yesterday's photo shoot to send in like he always did. Today was already looking brighter than days had been looking for…well, for quite some time.

His cell ringing interrupted his moment of peace, but once he glanced at the caller ID he knew he couldn't ignore it. It was his manager/assistant. Technically the term "manager/assistant" sounds self contradicting, but since this man handled legal affairs, clients, and the bank accounts as well as doing simple things like running errands and helping Cass choose an apartment, the term fit. He walked over to where his trench coat hung over the armchair in the living room, pulling his phone out of one of the deep pockets.

"Hello Crowley."

"Hello darling. I hear through the grapevine that someone has found himself a boyfriend?"

"News travels fast I see," Castiel commented.

"Well you were out last night flaunting him, what did you expect?"

"I was not flaunting him."

"Yes you were. But more importantly, I trust that this won't distract you from your work?"

"Of course not Crowley," Cass sighed.

"Good. Now, we are going to throw you two a little celebratory party. The publicity will be fantastic. Trust me, I know these things," the Brit said in the voice that he only used when he had an idea he was absolutely not backing down from.

"When and where?" Getting Dean to agree wouldn't be a problem, that much he was sure of. Parties were not by any means his preferred environment, but he fought battles, not wars. And with Crowley it was very nearly always a war.

"I happen to know this ridiculously large mansion that's just perfect for parties…"

"You could have just said we're having it at your house."

"But that wouldn't have sounded nearly as good. Anyways, I am thinking this weekend, starting at seven p.m. Be there or I will hunt you down and drag you by your sexily tousled hair."

With that, Crowley hung up on him. Castiel sighed and sat his phone on the coffee table. Crowley was one of the best men in his profession; confident, powerful, and as cutthroat as they come. Unfortunately though, despite his casual flirty banter, he was also very manipulative and self centered when he wanted to be. Always looking out for Number One. Cass knew that Crowley would as soon find a way to screw him over for his own welfare as he would back Castiel up in case of an emergency (for the sake of none other than keeping his own career intact), but despite the fact Crowley and Castiel didn't have a "trusting friendship" to coincide with their business arrangement, Castiel knew his business would have never become the industry that it is without Crowley Anderson.

But he wasn't letting the knowledge that he had to talk Dean into going to a party with him bring him down. The start of this morning was going far too well for such a trivial matter to stand in his way. Castiel was starting to embody a whole new confidence, a new assertiveness that had been locked deep under the surface until his encounters with Dean. Part of him wondered what it was about the model that could get right under his skin, but a larger part simply didn't care.

His first shoot of the day was with what the company described as an "up and coming model." He was told that he'd be working with a woman this time, which was a relief since he didn't think he could photograph a man without feeling very, _very_ awkward. Of course he wouldn't let that stand in the way of his professionalism, but starting the day off that uncomfortably would _not _have been pleasant. He didn't know the name of this model, but they'd get introductions out of the way before the shoot.

One person he didn't expect to be seeing, though, was his little sister.

Anna was swathed in a white, fluffy bathrobe as the hair and makeup crew worked on her, and her face broke out into a radiant smile as soon as she spotted her older brother standing in the studio. Her long, dark red hair was being ironed into tight curls, and she wore pale makeup accented only by lipstick so dark it was nearly black. She was modeling for a spread in _Vogue _(_up and coming my ass, _thought Castiel), so the look had to be dramatic and sexy.

"Castiel!" she said happily, leaping up from the chair as soon as the crew was done with her.

Surprised, he blinked and said, "Anna. I thought you didn't have your first shoot for another two weeks."

"I met this guy who knows the editor for _Vogue, _and they wanted me in their Rising Stars spread! Isn't that great?"

"That's wonderful," he agreed, deciding to hug her after she didn't have a hairstyle that had probably taken an hour's work. "Why didn't you tell me when you got here? I didn't think you were flying in for another week."

"Um, about that…there's something I need to tell you."

"Novak! Get a move on woman, we don't have all day!" barked a man bustling about with a clipboard.

Suddenly Castiel was in front of him, staring down at him with fierce, sapphire blue eyes. "Now tell me…is that any way to talk to a lady?"

"I, uh…" The shorter man trailed off, alarmed by the low growl Cass was speaking in.

"The answer to that question would be _no_," Castiel said condescendingly. "Go ahead, talk to my sister that way again. Just don't say I didn't warn you about the consequences."

His eyes boring deep into those of the smaller man's for a second longer, he turned and strode to the other end of the room, crouching down to assemble his tripod. Anna walked over, gaping. "You just…"

"What?"

"You totally just pwned that dude!"

He cocked his head to the side. "What exactly is 'pwned'? It sounds like a vaguely sexual practice."

"I see you haven't gotten any smarter," she joked dryly. "What happened to our shy, insecure little Castiel?"

_Dean Winchester. _"I just didn't like the way he was speaking to you. That is all."

The shoot was soon underway, both of them too wrapped up in their work to realize that what Anna needed to tell him had gotten pushed aside. Cass couldn't repress a surge of pride as he watched his sister pose, smile, and leer at the camera. Her body was hugged by a pale teal corset dress, the skirt ruffling and fanning out around her legs. The elegant shape of her shoulders were left exposed by the lack of sleeves, and her long legs ended in a pair of high black heels. She looked absolutely gorgeous.

"Hold that pose, that is perfect!" he called out, his finger hitting the button with rapidly quick succession. "Right there, hold it…oh, that is beautiful."

His silence during his shoot with Dean was very unlike him. He was shy and quiet by nature, but in his profession it was expected to be very vocal with the models. Being so silent during his shoot with Dean to keep himself from getting any more innuendoes directed at him had been a rare slip of his professionalism. But now he was back on track, slipping back into his routine and once more becoming the high end, remarkable photographer that New York knew him to be.

* * *

><p>Dean, home from his first three shoots of the day to take an hour break before his next one, was on his phone in a heated conversation with his father. "Dad, I'm a big fucking boy and I know how to take care of myself!"<p>

"Clearly not! I told you when you decided to go with Sam that you were _not_ to shack up with some man!"

"I'm not 'shacking up' and he is not 'some man.' I know it can't be permanent, but Dad…I don't want to hurt him."

"Guess you should have considered that before you fucked him a second time."

"It's more than that!" Dean yelled, surprising himself. Then, quieter, he said, "It wasn't supposed to happen, but…I care about him."

"Try telling him that when you break his heart. Tell me how it goes." Leaving those cold words to hang in the air, John hung up.

Dean punched the red button with his finger and threw the phone across the room, seething. He was between a rock and a hard place. He knew he had responsibilities, knew that this couldn't last, but if he was as immune to Cass as he pretended to be, then why did his stomach turn every time he thought of telling his Castiel that it was over? _My Castiel. My sweet, innocent Castiel…I made you remember who you are, and I'm going to be the one to break you again. Irony's a fucking bitch._

"Dean?"

Sam stood in the doorway, watching his older brother with concern. Dean turned to face him. "What, Sam?"

"I heard you throw something…what's wrong?"

"Nothing."

Sam's face melted into the empathetic puppy dog expression he'd been known for since he was old enough to use it. "Please don't shut me out. Just…tell me what's going on. You know you can tell me anything."

"Aw come on man, no chick flick mom-"

"Don't feed me that crap," Sam interrupted. "Is this about the photographer?"

"Cass," Dean said softly. "His name is Cass."

Sam studied his sibling's expression in silence before sighing and saying, "You've fallen for him."

"I have, Sammy…and I don't know what to do. I want to be with him but…I can't."

"I wish I had an answer, Dean. I'm sorry you're in this position." Sam knew the most logical and expected point he could make would be reminding Dean that if he cared about Castiel, he needed to break it off before things got any worse. But his brother had already heard that and Sam wasn't going to be the one to throw it in his face while he was this uncharacteristically vulnerable.

The awkward silence that had grown between the brothers was interrupted by Sam's lollipop sucking boyfriend sticking his head in the room, briefly pulling the red sucker from his mouth to say, "Boys, we have some company downstairs."

"Who?" Sam asked.

Gabriel shrugged. "Didn't get that far. I was just in the kitchen, minding my own business, finding some chocolate syrup for us to use later…"

"Okay Gabe, thanks," Sam said quickly, pushing his boyfriend out before he could make matters any worse.

Dean grimaced at the thought of what his brother may use that chocolate syrup for but didn't comment as he went downstairs to the living room, where Balthazar sat in an armchair with his sketchbook and a stranger was coming in from the foyer. A well dressed stranger, that is. The man wore a form fitting black suit that was undoubtedly tailored, his hands in the pockets of his suit jacket. He was older than Dean but handsome in an elegant sort of way, carrying himself in a manner that demanded respect and attention. Dean could feel his ego from the twenty some-odd feet that separated them.

"Who the hell are you?" he asked bluntly. This wasn't an agent, he would have been informed ahead of time.

Dark eyes lifted to meet Dean's. "The name's Crowley, love."

"Dean Winchester," he introduced stiffly, still miffed by Crowley's unexpected appearance. "If you're looking for the whorehouse, go down the street and take your next left. Or just make an appointment with Balthazar."

Balthazar opened his mouth to retort but was silenced by Crowley. "Actually you're the one I'm looking for. Shall we talk in private?"

"Guess so…"

Dean was confused by who this man was (the name Crowley rung a bell, though he couldn't place it), but curiosity got the best of him as he led Crowley into the kitchen and sat down at the table, motioning for the older man to do the same. Someone with manners probably would have been offering drinks by now, but Dean was too busy wondering who the hell this guy was and why he was randomly showing up at Dean's house. Most people made an appointment through Dean's agent since through the week he spent very little time at home, usually off at a photo shoot. He was in very high demand.

"What do you want?" Dean asked bluntly.

Crowley leaned calmly back in his chair. "I could ask you the same question. Everyone knows you're the biggest whore this side of New York, so what is your game with Castiel?"

"This is about Cass?" Dean repeated in surprise. Now he knew why the name was familiar; Crowley's name was on Castiel's website.

"Slow on the uptake, I see. And yes. He has made me a very rich man since I started his career. If you hurt him then it will affect his work, more importantly it will affect the money he makes. So if you interfere with Castiel in any way I don't like, you will be very sorry. I promise you do not want to make an enemy of me…and trust me Winchester, I'm a man of my word."

He got up to leave, but then turned and added, "Oh, and one more thing. I'll be texting you an address later. Be there Friday at seven p.m. You have a party to attend."

Then he was gone, leaving Dean to stare after him, gaping. _Who the hell does this guy think he is?_


	6. Is This Love Or Just Sexual Desire?

**Author's Note:**

**I am so, SO SORRY it took me so long to update! Things were up in the air on whether or not we were moving (MIGRAINE) but it's finally settled down now, so I finished this. I know it's not my best, but my SPN muse is like...well...X_X Oh, and if any of you haven't seen X Men: First Class, GO WATCH IT! Holy hell I'm in love with that movie...and Charles, maybe just a little. Mainly his eyes.**

**Thanks times a billion to every single one of you amazing people out there reading and reviewing!**

* * *

><p>"<em>Here we go, just lose control and let your body give in<em>

_To the beat of your heart as my hand touches your skin_

_Is this love or just sexual desire?_

_We're gonna start a fire."_

_~Start a Fire by Ryan Star_

"A party, huh?"

"Yes, Dean, a party," Cass breathed.

"What kind of party?"

"Are we _seriously_ having this conversation right _now_?"

Castiel was bent over the arm of his couch, Dean firmly grasping his hips and thrusting into him slowly as they had world's worst timed conversation in history. At his lover's protests, Dean smirked a little and gave a thrust so hard that Cass gasped aloud at the rough friction. The model had decided he was going to make Castiel come without even touching him. Castiel's erection strained upwards, untouched and getting harder with each thrust inside his tight, willing body.

Dean's nails pressed small crescent indents into Castiel's hips as he gripped them tighter, pounding into him forcefully enough to make Castiel cry out a loud, desperate moan. This only drove Dean to fuck him harder. The photographer braced his hands on the couch, ducking his head and shuddering as Dean hammered against his prostate. Anna and him had split up again after the shoot (he'd had a busy day ahead of him) and his plans to call her when he got home had been pushed aside when he walked into his apartment and found Dean sitting on his couch. Clothes had disappeared shortly afterwards.

As he drew close to the edge, Dean pulled Cass upwards and against his chest, burying his face in the photographer's neck as his thrusts grew harder and lost their rhythm. They came together, harsh cries of pleasure torn from their throats. Castiel went weak in the knees with the force of it, Dean's arm around his waist the only thing holding him upright. Castiel leaned back against him contently, his body going lax in the afterglow of sex. Dean smiled against the side of his neck. Cass had become so much more relaxed in his presence, convinced he may have finally found the person he'd been waiting for since college.

_Surely this can't be what falling in love feels like? God, it can't be, we haven't been together a full week yet! But…if it's not love, then what is it? _he mused to himself, covering Dean's hands with his own and lacing their fingers together. Every time he saw Dean his heart literally skipped a beat, his skin felt like it was burning from the inside out, and he felt like he'd melt to the floor every time a smile lit up those gorgeous green eyes. It was even worse than the time he'd been eleven years old and had a crush on his (very male, very straight) History teacher. This felt so much deeper…so deep that one might consider it love if he thought it was possible to fall in love with a man in only two days. Somewhere around forty-eight hours. That was impossible, surely? Castiel wished he could think that thought with more certainty but found himself unable.

"You're awful quiet," Dean noted.

"Sorry. Just…thinking."

"About?"

"Nothing in particular."

"Yeah? Well I don't believe you."

Dean grinned and playfully swept Cass up into his arms, spinning him around enough to make him dizzy before dropping him on the couch. Castiel laughed, smiling radiantly and trying to blink the room back into stillness. Once his peripheral vision steadied again, he looked up to see Dean watching him with a look of…a look of something that couldn't be identified. He sat on the edge of the couch beside Cass, one hand still laced with the photographer's.

Blushing under Dean's stare, Cass asked, "What?"

"That's the first time I've seen you smile."

They stared at each other for a few moments before Dean leaned down and kissed Castiel gently. It wasn't demanding or heated like his kisses usually were…it was soft, maybe even caring. One of his hands lightly stroked through Castiel's rumpled hair. The small but tender gestures had Castiel doing everything short of melting into the couch. The touches were nothing out of the ordinary, but the affection they were bestowed with spoke volumes. Dean's lips were pulled up into a sweet smile as he caressed the photographer into sleep. Such a simple moment, but it was so delicately intimate, as if the slightest sound or movement could shatter it. He would have happily lived in this moment for the rest of his life.

Cass only wished now more than ever that he could deny he was falling in love.

* * *

><p>The next few days only made matters worse. Dean showed Castiel all the wonders of New York, taking him everywhere from the New York Botanical Gardens because Cass wanted to photograph them to whisking him off to the Hayden Planetarium, pointing out each of the stars he recognized. Smiling became a more familiar occurrence…with each passing moment, they fell more and more for each other, one of them painfully unaware of how much his lover was keeping from him. Castiel had no idea what he'd gotten himself into.<p>

Late Thursday evening found them in Theodore Roosevelt Park, laid out on a blanket and watching the sun set through the leaves above them. They were both on their backs, their hands laced together and resting between them. Castiel hadn't actually visited where Dean lived yet, but that was only because there was so much else to do…so many places to be with the companionship of his - dare he say it? - boyfriend. However, the word sounded weak and bland when he used to it to sum up what he felt for Dean.

"This is amazing," he said softly, the fading orange light casting shadows all around them. "I haven't even known you for an entire week and it's like we haven't stopped since that very first day."

Dean looked over at him, entranced by the way those sapphire blues danced under the light. "Do you want to stop?"

Castiel leaned over and pressed the gentlest of kisses to Dean's lips. Against them, he whispered, "Never."

* * *

><p><em><strong>Friday Evening<strong>_

Dean was waiting outside for Castiel, there early to make sure they would be able to get to the party on time. He felt like he had at sixteen, going on his first ever date. Waiting for the girl he was taking to the prom, standing in her parents' living room and trying not to let his jaw drop when she appeared at the top of the stairs in case her father tried to blow his nuts off with one of the hunting rifles hanging on the wall. Lisa Braeden wasn't the most beautiful girl for sure, but she cleaned up nice and she was a year older, so they went out for awhile until she graduated.

Lisa went to college across the state. They had decided to attempt a "long distance relationship" since at the time John was still throwing a fit about Dean's recently discovered bisexuality, but that had went down the drain when she came home to visit over summer break. She walked into his bedroom (he had plans to move out but was still with his parents for the time being, not to mention he was reluctant to leave Sammy) and found him on his bed, fingers gripping the sheets as the next door neighbor's son sucked him off. Needless to say that relationship hadn't ended on the best of terms.

But back to the matter at hand. How the hell had he let it come this far? Those damn blue eyes seemed to be haunting him. He never should have asked to see Castiel again…he'd let it get too far. It was bound to happen sooner or later. He was only human dammit, though his father seemed to forget that most of the time. It was fine to fuck any guy once, but Heaven fucking forbid he actually fall in love. Then again, he reasoned, who _couldn't_ fall in love with someone like Castiel? The way he blushed, the occasional bold remark he'd make, his smile, his sweet personality…

Then Dean realized what he'd just admitted to himself.

He was in love.

Oh, shit.

His mental "Could I be any stupider?" moment was cut off when Castiel walked outside. And Dean? Well, Dean was…speechless. Castiel's slender body was hugged by an expertly tailored black tux, the customary bowtie replaced by a dark blue silk tie that made his eyes look damn near _electric_. The black fabric stood out against his pale skin, as did his shock of dark bed hair. Dean wasn't sure what he was going to do first: melt onto the sidewalk or drag Castiel back into his apartment and fuck his brains out.

"You look…"

"Like an idiot?"

"Beautiful," Dean breathed.

Just as expected, Castiel blushed, and Dean pulled the photographer's body against his own. They locked into a deep, passionate kiss right there on the sidewalk. The temptation to force Cass back into his apartment was almost too much to bear, but he resisted and instead pulled away to admire the flushed skin of Castiel's gorgeous face, his hair even further mussed from Dean's fingers gripping and pulling it. Their growing mutual affection had done nothing to put a damper on the searing attraction that had been there from the moment he pressed his lips to the top of Castiel's hand, gazing up at the blushing photographer and knowing this would be the photo shoot of a lifetime.

Had it really only been five days ago?

* * *

><p>Castiel was wired with excitement when they parked in front of Crowley's massive home. A smile pulled at his mouth when he spotted Jimmy's car, and an even bigger one did when he saw Gabriel's. He didn't talk to his oldest brother as much as he did his twin and little sister; it had been over a year since he saw Gabriel. They may live in the same city, but their careers took them in such different directions. Castiel had firmly decided he wanted to be a photographer while Gabriel went off in pursuit of a host of insane, impossible schemes that all ended with him being right back at square one. Last time they talked, Gabriel had planned to open a strip club with a built in bakery.<p>

"You ready?" Dean asked, opening Castiel's door for him.

Smiling, Cass took his outstretched hand. "Ready."

They walked arm in arm into the party, the room already bustling with people despite them being ten minutes early. Piano music played from the speakers built into the walls, classy flower arrangements decorated several flat surfaces, and the kitchen had been temporarily turned into a bar. Castiel had to hand it to Crowley, the man really knew how to throw a party. Then he spotted his siblings; his twin sporting a sharp suit and his sister in a simple but beautiful little black dress. Cass smiled and took Dean's hand.

"Come on, I want you to meet my family."

Jimmy saw the happy couple and grinned, walking over and hugging Cass. "Long time no see, stranger."

"We had lunch last weekend, Jimmy."

"And it feels like ages ago!"

"Clingy."

"Oh please, you're just playing hard to get."

Dean cleared his throat, prompting Jimmy to turn to him and say, "Oh, you must be Dean. If I find out you've been treating my brother any way I don't like, I swear to God I will…"

"Well gee, don't roll out the welcome wagon or anything," Dean muttered.

Castiel laughed. "Don't worry Jimmy, if I need someone to castrate Dean you'll be the first to know."

"On that note, I think I'll go get us some drinks…" Dean said, kissing Cass on the cheek and casting a fairly weary glance in Jimmy's direction.

The photographer watched his lover disappear into the crowd, knowing he wouldn't have long to catch up with Jimmy because he'd get torn away as soon as Crowley realized the guests of honor had arrived. Anna had gotten pulled onto the dance floor and gave Castiel an apologetic shrug. He smiled back and nodded in understanding. His little sister had never been able to resist dancing, even when she was a child. He wasn't particularly pleased with how close she was dancing to the man that had pulled her out on the floor, but she was an adult so he couldn't really do anything about it.

"I'm going to go find Gabriel, any idea where he is?" Cass asked.

Jimmy snorted. "Probably with that boyfriend of his. Some hot shot model…guess it runs in the family."

"I'm looking forward to meeting him," Castiel said. "I'll see you later, I should probably try to find Gabriel before Crowley gets a hold of me."

"Is Crowley the one with the black suit and the British accent?"

"Unfortunately."

Jimmy nodded appreciatively. "He could get a hold of me _any_ day…"

"Don't even think about it. He's an asshole and my manager. Off limits."

With that Castiel made his way through the crowd, keeping his head low and trying to avoid being recognized. The only thing that kept people from mistaking Jimmy for him was his twin's flatter hair. Their hair was one of the only ways to tell the Novak twins apart. Well, Jimmy also had a habit of flirting with anything that moved whether it be male or female, but you didn't know that until you had the misfortune to end up in conversation with him.

Cass found his brother in the office, on the lap of an insanely tall man, making out like the eternal teenager that he was. Typical. Castiel cleared his throat, the two men starting and tumbling off the couch, landing in a tangled heap on the floor. Cass snickered quietly, raising an eyebrow at Gabriel as the petite blond got to his feet with a disgruntled expression as well as a hickey forming on the side of his neck. Then he realized who it was that had interrupted them.

"Castiel! Heya bro!" he cried excitedly, throwing his arms around his younger brother in a bruising hug.

"Gabriel…you are constricting…my…_breathing_," gasped the photographer.

* * *

><p>Sam slipped out of the room to give the brothers some time to catch up, heading to the bar to find Dean. He'd left voicemail after voicemail telling his brother how bad of an idea it was to make this deliberately public and gotten no reply. Dean must have been staying somewhere else, probably some high end motel room or something, because he never came home anymore and wouldn't stay with his boyfriend in fear of looking clingy. He was clearly avoiding Sam on purpose. And to make it all the better, it looked like Sam's boyfriend was Dean's boyfriend's brother. It was a migraine waiting to happen.<p>

"Dean, we need to talk," Sam said, sliding onto a barstool next to his brother.

"I don't feel like the lecture, Sammy. Save it."

"How long are you going to lead him on for?"

Dean turned a glare to him. "I'm not leading him on. Sam, I…"

"Oh god. I know that look. Dean, please, and I mean _please_, tell me you're not in love with him?"

"That's the problem. I _am_ in love with him. Don't ask me how it happened this fast because I don't know. Once this party hits the papers everything'll be shot all to hell anyway, so tomorrow I'm booking a flight to Lawrence to tell Dad all the plans are off. I don't care about the consequences…I'm not going to let Cass get hurt because of me."

"Good idea, darling," said a voice from right behind him. "I take it you haven't forgotten our little…conversation?"

Dean turned around. "Crowley."

"Winchester. Now, the happy couple needs to make their speech. Get going."

Dean got to his feet, melting into the crowd as he searched for Cass. Knowing that soon they could be together without restraint was like a fifty ton weight had been lifted from his shoulders. A bright smile lit up his face as he spotted his photographer's messy head of hair, talking to…wait a minute, was that Sam's boyfriend? _They know each other? Well fuck, it would figure, _he thought with a grin. He was at the height of the New York social scene by being at this party, he had a boyfriend he'd somehow managed to fall in love with in under a week, and he was finally ready to throw caution to the wind and prove to his father that _no one _tells Dean Winchester what the fuck to do.

To himself, he thought, _Shit's about to get real, folks. _


	7. Showed Me How It Feels To Hope

***MY MUSE IS BACK! CONFETTI! IT'S A PARAAAADE!**

"_This is not a dream that I'm living _

_This is just a world of your own_

_Took me from all that I knew_

_Showed me how it feels to hope_

_With you with me facing tomorrow, together, I can learn to fly_

_Feels like I'm living in a lion's mouth_

…_But the lion is an angel."_

_~Lion by Rebecca St James_

"Thank you all so much for coming, it is a great honor to have you all here," Cass began, standing on a raised platform.

Beside him, Dean added, "You can all only imagine how honored I am to be here, able to say this beautiful man is my boyfriend. And there's the added bonus of getting to fuck him…"

Castiel smacked a palm to his forehead, mortified. He really couldn't have chosen someone a little more classy, could he? A few people in the room (Gabriel and Jimmy in particular) erupted into laughter, amused by Dean's directness, Castiel's mortification, or both. Crowley leaned against a nearby wall holding a glass of Craig, smirking up at the pink cheeked photographer. Cass glared back at him with a look that clearly said, _You're supposed to be on my side, asshole. _Crowley read the look easily and his smirk only broadened at it.

"Okay, thank you Dean, I'll take it from here," Cass said quickly, elbowing his lover sharply in the ribs.

The rest of the party was simply magical. Of course there were people there to ask questions and take photographs given that Dean and Cass were everything short of famous in New York, but to them it felt like they were the only two people in the world. Castiel found that he got along marvelously with Sam, also learning that his sister and Gabriel lived with the Winchester brothers. Anna picked nervously at her nails when this was mentioned but Cass was too busy talking to Sam to notice. The photographer didn't know how _long_ Anna had been living there.

"Congrats on tying Gabriel down, Sam, I never thought I'd see the day when he settled down with someone," Castiel said, leaning back in the armchair adjacent to the taller Winchester's.

Gabriel came up behind Sam with a grin. "Oh he ties me down quite frequently. Don't ya Sammy?"

"I could have went my entire life without hearing that," mumbled Dean, who leaned against the arm of Cass' chair.

Castiel laughed softly and reached behind him, his fingers lacing together with Dean's. "You'll live."

Dean leaned down and kissed his boyfriend, playfully tugging at the messy locks of hair. "Yeah, guess I will."

"Get a _room_!" Sam groaned.

Crowley walked over, watching the couple with amusement. "Winchester, I need to borrow your date."

"I charge fifty bucks an hour," Dean retorted. "And if you break it you buy it."

"Dean!" Cass cried exasperatedly, standing up. "I am not for sale!"

Dean smirked as Crowley led the photographer off, green eyes twinkling with affection. Castiel smiled and nodded politely to the people that greeted him as he passed, clutching Crowley's sleeve to keep himself from getting pulled into the crowd. Crowley looked, almost imperceptibly, a touch more rumpled than usual. The tie was fractionally askew, and his short hair was a little ruffled. Castiel narrowed his eyes. What on earth had he been up to? Cass generally kept his nose out of the man's personal life, but he'd never seen Crowley look anything less than perfect.

"I'm going to talk, you're going to listen, and don't breathe a word of it to another soul. Understood?" asked the older man, pulling Castiel to the center of the room that had been turned into a dance floor.

Confused, Cass put his arms around Crowley's neck. "Crowley…"

"I'll take that as a yes." They barely even moved, more focused on the conversation than dancing. Crowley lifted Castiel's shoes onto his own to make it look like they were actually moving their feet. "I'm not supposed to tell you until it's finalized, but I have some unbelievable news for you."

"I'm listening."

Crowley looked more pleased than Cass could recall ever seeing him. "We're about to be very rich men, darling. _Venice Garde _is looking for a new head photographer for their magazine."

"And…?"

"_And_ they want to meet with you next week to look over the cover shoot photos in person. They've looked into your work and want to interview you for the position. I was told that by one of the underling editors, all she has to do is clear it with the boss, but it might as well be a done deal."

"If you're playing a sick joke, I will kill you."

"It's not a joke."

Castiel could barely believe it. He was a freelance photographer with his own business, but working for an up and coming magazine as the head of their photography department? It was everything he'd worked for. Ignoring the reservations he had with the man, he excitedly threw himself at Crowley in a bruising hug, more grateful than ever for his snarky manager/assistant. Crowley mumbled something about things getting maudlin but still hugged the smaller man back. Cass pressed his face into Crowley's shoulder, catching a whiff of his cologne and…hold on. What else?

There was a smell lingering on his waistcoat that was definitely not Crowley's. Castiel knew what cologne he wore, it never changed…but the scent of a second fragrance clung to him, something both foreign and distantly familiar. Cass knew that smell but couldn't put his finger on it. It was a cologne of some sort, but definitely not Crowley's. He would have simply assumed that the man had been fooling around in a back room or something had it not been for the nagging familiarity tugging at the deepest recesses of his brain.

"Remember, tell no one. Not even Dean. I wasn't supposed to tell you yet," Crowley reinforced.

Castiel nodded distractedly, stepping out of Crowley's personal space. "Of course. Not a word…"

He trailed off, disappearing into the crowd. What was that godforsaken _smell?_

* * *

><p>Dean leaned against the bar, talking to Anna. "So, why didn't you tell Cass you were here? He talked about how much you love this place, like you didn't live here."<p>

"I didn't. Until recently, I mean," she fumbled, "I haven't been here that long, really…"

"You've been here for almost four months, how is that 'not that long'?"

She tensed, folding her arms over her chest. "I just wanted to adjust, you know? Get a feel for the city and stuff."

"Anna, let me clue you in on something sweetheart. No one says 'and stuff' unless they're trying to lie. So tell me why you've been hiding from your brother."

"It's personal," she snapped harshly, shoving herself away from the bar and disappearing, leaving the loud clicks of her high heels in her wake.

Dean moved to follow her, but then he had an armful of wildly happy photographer. Cass threw his arms around Dean's neck, smiling and flushed with happiness. Dean was utterly confused but wrapped his arms around his boyfriend. He'd never seen Castiel this exuberant, this excited. Was he drunk? Did someone surgically remove the stick from his ass? Dean went through these possibilities and more as he chuckled, asking his photographer what had him so happy.

Castiel leaned back, not letting go of Dean's neck. "I can't tell you yet, but oh Dean it's fantastic!"

"Sounds like it," Dean laughed, kissing Cass softly on the lips. "I've never seen you this excited, and I include that time I fucked you over your kitchen counter. You got pretty worked up that morning."

"Let's go," Cass breathed, tugging on his lover's hand.

"We've only been here for an hour…"

Castiel pressed against him, sliding his thigh between Dean's and using it to massage the model's crotch. "Let's _go._"

"Okaaaahhh…" The end of the word was lost in a moan as Castiel applied pressure to his cock.

Dean didn't even say goodbye to Sam or the Novaks, he was too entranced by this eager, sex driven little creature dragging him outside. He wasn't familiar with his version of his boyfriend, but he could sure as hell get used to it. Especially when, as they drove back to the apartment, Castiel's hand crept over and began rubbing Dean's hard on. Dean bit back a moan, his knuckles going white on the steering wheel. Holy shit, what had happened to his shy, awkward photographer? _Me, probably_, he thought. But he hardly complained as those long, nimble fingers stroked him through his slacks.

"Cass…" The word was one long moan.

Arriving at the apartment was a blur. Castiel pushed Dean in, kicking the door shut behind him and stripping his lover with a speed and urgency that had a rush of blood filling Dean's cock. He made quick work of discarding the photographer's suit, stripping him bare just as Castiel had done to him. Their mouths locked together in a frenzied kiss as Castiel literally drug him down onto the living room floor. He winced in pain as his back hit the hardwood floor. _Okay, bedrooms are overrated, I can deal with that, _Dean decided. Both were achingly hard, making high noises of disparity as their erections pressed together. Dean was dizzy with how fast their clothes had disappeared and how Castiel had done everything short of throw him onto the floor. He slipped a condom easily over Dean's erection, having dug it out of the model's suit pocket.

Castiel straddled his lover's waist, but Dean grabbed his hips and held him still. "Hey, Easy, I don't want you to _ohmyfuckingGOD_…"

His sentence was lost as the photographer jerked his hips down, burying Dean's cock deep inside his hole. Dean threw his head back against the hard floor, gripping Castiel's hips and nearly coming at the feel of his dick forced up into that tight, unprepared heat. Cass made a noise of pain that quickly dissolved into a moan, his hands bracing themselves on Dean's shoulders. The model was new to this; he'd always been the one in control, or at least had some semblance of control, he had never been held down and dominated this way. And good God it was fucking incredible. He had been right all those times he'd looked at Cass and thought he'd seen something beautifully wild and dangerous hiding under the surface.

Castiel began riding Dean's cock in harsh, fast movements, rocking back and forth and clutching Dean's shoulders for all it was worth. Dean's back pressed against the hard, unforgiving floor as his toes curled in absolute ecstasy. His hands slid up his lover's back, over the knobs of his spine, nails raking lightly against the skin. They were both starting to sweat, the scent mixing with that of sex and wafting throughout the room. Cass gave a hoarse cry as his prostate was struck, his muscles tightening instinctively around Dean.

"Oh, ohhhh _fuck_," Dean moaned, fisting a hand in Castiel's hair and yanking it back.

Cass came completely untouched, his wild thrusting slowing to an uneven halt as he felt his orgasm surge through him. His muscles clenched tightly around Dean's cock, surrounding the model in a hot sheathe. Dean sunk his nails into Castiel's shoulders, screaming out as he felt pleasure like he'd never known pouring into him. His legs snapped up to bend at the knees, a broken scream torn from his throat. He had never…oh _God_ he'd never felt this in his life. It wasn't _a_ wave of pleasure; no, it crashed over him again and again, racking his entire body with its unbelievable intensity. His scream was cracked and guttural, a small rivulet of blood trailing down from the photographer's shoulders where his nails had broken the skin.

Finally, what felt like hours later, he felt like he was returning to himself. His body trembled with the aftershocks. Breathing forced out in hard gasps, he gently slid Cass off his cock and pulled his lover down next to him. Castiel's head dropped limply onto his shoulder. Neither could form anything even remotely coherent, their minds positively blown by the force of the pleasure that had been enveloping them only moments ago. Dean pulled Cass close, burying his face in the dark hair he'd been pulling, and exhaled a shaky breath. Despite how mindless their fucking had been, something now felt unnervingly intimate as he held Castiel's sweat and come slicked body in his arms.

He felt the photographer's heart hammering and looked down to find his entire body heaving with the effort it took to regulate his breathing. Dean tilted Castiel's head up to study him, finding him looking sated but shaking violently. Drying blood was crusted against a small mark on his shoulder, his hips were bruised, and he looked like he couldn't move (_or breathe_, Dean noted worriedly) if he tried. His body was lax in Dean's strong embrace as he tried to recover.

"Hey," Dean said softly, rubbing his photographer's back. "You okay?"

"Fine…" Cass breathed weakly.

Not believing him whatsoever, Dean eased to his feet, cradling Castiel close to his chest as he did. His body protested against walking as he started towards the bedroom, but he took one look at his lover and knew that Cass had overdone it. Just a week ago he'd been a virgin; he didn't have that much experience and it had resulted in him taking it too hard and too fast. He had thrown himself into it with a violence that had left him weak, shaking, and not even able to stand on his own two feet. Dean would be lying if he said his heart didn't jerk a little at how small and defenseless Cass felt carried in his arms.

"Stay with me," Castiel whispered as Dean laid him on the bed.

Dean peeled the condom off and flicked it in a nearby trashcan. "I shouldn't…"

"Please?"

He looked so small laying on the massive bed. So utterly dependant on Dean despite how assertive and dominating he'd started out as. His energy was drained, he was vulnerable, and he just wanted to be held. Dean could tell that much simply from looking at him. The model searched but couldn't find a genuine reason to turn him down, especially not when those blue eyes were so openly pleading. He had a feeling those eyes would be the death of him. Giving a soft sigh of defeat, he disappeared into the bathroom for a moment before coming back out with a damp towel, sitting next to Cass on the bed and cleaning him up.

"Thank you for staying," Castiel murmured.

Dean caressed the side of the older man's face, his voice rough with emotion when he said, "I'm not leaving you, Cass." _Not now. Not ever. _Tomorrow he planned to book a flight to Lawrence, and then he could be with Cass, nothing holding him back.

* * *

><p>Castiel felt safe and warm in Dean's arms as they laid under the covers, his body aching. Bruises were forming on his hips, his shoulder hurt, and his entrance was thoroughly abused, but he wouldn't trade it for anything. And as amazing - make that earth shattering - as the sex had been, this was the part that he enjoyed most. His head on Dean's chest, the model's arm warm against his back as he held him close. Dean had been so obviously worried about him, quick to pick him up and carry him to his room, laying him on the bed with such tenderness.<p>

It was so different than his first relationship. He could still remember the cruel blond calling him stupid, ugly, worthless…and even telling him how much of a pathetic, insecure sap he was for repeatedly backing out of sex. Worse still, the memory of his boyfriend pinning him down, holding his wrists above his head in a crushing grip that made him nearly cry in pain and fear. He had been so sure that he loved that man…and then there were the days his boyfriend started drinking, which grew more and more frequent the more Castiel was around him.

He could still recall their very first fight.

_Castiel walked into his dorm, tired from a long day of classes. He dropped his bag beside the door and pushed it closed behind him, rubbing the back of his neck and blinking. Professor Mullins had been in a particularly bad mood today, taking it out on any student that dared use their vocal chords. Cass just wanted to collapse onto the couch with a good book for awhile before tackling his assignments. He pulled his reading glasses from his pocket and slid them on, plucking a well worn paperback from the self assembled shelves by the couch._

"_Is that _all _you know how to do?" asked a slightly slurred voice._

_Castiel turned around to find his boyfriend of seven months leaning in the bedroom doorway, a half drank bottle of cheap whiskey in his hand. "What are you doing here? I thought you were visiting Anna tonight." Their families were very close, the Novaks having known his boyfriend's family long before Cass got together with him._

_Light blue eyes narrowed. "What, you don't want me here?"_

"_Of course I want you here, I was just surprised," Castiel said, sliding out of his shoes and curling up on the couch._

"_Get up, Castiel."_

_Cass sighed. "It's been a long day, I'm just going to-"_

_Pain flashed white hot in his face as his boyfriend slapped him, his head jerking to the side with the impact. He blinked up at his drunk companion, hurt and confused. His boyfriend proceeded to say, "All I ever see you doing is taking pictures or reading some stupid book. And good God Castiel, haven't you ever heard of contacts? You look like a fool in those bloody glasses." With that, he snatched them off of Cass' face and dropped them, crushing them under a booted foot._

_Castiel felt a prickle of fear, trying to run, only to be grabbed by the hair and thrown onto the floor._

He'd nearly panicked when he felt Dean's hand in his hair, but then he realized that when it wasn't being used as an act of violence, he loved the feel of his hair pulling back from his scalp and yanking is head back with it. Dean had finally allowed him to let go of some of the memories and the walls around his heart that came alongside them. He found himself no longer associating books with people calling him stupid and boring, someone touching his hair turned him on instead of frightening him, and the bruises on his hips didn't come from being hated and unloved…they brought back a pleasant recollection of fucking on his living room floor. Slowly he was learning how it felt to be cared for, to be held, maybe even to be loved if they made it that far. And he hoped they did…he didn't think he could bear to lose Dean, not after this.

Staring at his lover's sleeping face, he pulled himself closer to Dean and whispered, "_I love you, Dean Winchester."_


	8. Take a Chance On Us Tonight

***Had this done the day before yesterday but kept debating about changing it. Meh. Anyways, for better or for worse, here it is!**

_"I sing these songs about you, it wouldn't be the same without you_

_I know you try to hide, I know you try to act tough_

_But take a chance on us_

_Throw your arm round love, don't give me up_

_Let it pull you up, tonight_

_Take a chance on us tonight."_

_~Take a Chance On Us by Scouting For Girls_

Dean was woken up by the sunlight filtering through Castiel's thin curtains. He groaned, hiding his face in his boyfriend's shoulder. It was half past too damn early to be conscious. Castiel was unfazed by the light and slept on, his back pressed against Dean's chest. The model's arm was draped over his waist, their legs tangled together and with the sheets. Dean smiled; even under the revealing light of early morning, there was not a single flaw to mar Castiel's features. He couldn't resist leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to the side of Cass' face. The photographer stirred in his sleep, snuggling closer against Dean and mumbling something half coherently.

It was tempting as hell to stay in bed with Cass for another few hours, maybe even try for some lazy morning-after sex, but Dean had to book his flight. He sighed and disentangled himself from his sleeping lover, wandering into the living room and spending a minimum of fifteen minutes locating various items of his haphazardly discarded suit. He finally found his underwear, which had somehow ended up on the blender. _Jesus, Cass… _Making sure he had everything, he retreated to the bathroom and closed the door behind him. He really needed a shower after last night.

Like his shower at home, this one was large and elaborate, the water beating down on his skin with pleasantly hard pressure. He was in and out fairly quickly, throwing his suit back on until he could get home to change clothes. Castiel was already awake and dressed, in the kitchen making coffee when Dean came back. He spotted his boyfriend and smiled, walking over to Dean and wrapping his arms around him, kissing him gently before offering him breakfast.

"Would if I could," the model sighed. "I gotta book a flight."

Castiel tilted his head. "To where?"

"Lawrence. Family emergency."

"I hope everything's okay…"

"Oh yeah, it's fine, Dad just needs somebody there." Dean winced at how easily the lies flowed.

Cass added sugar to his coffee. "I'll drive you to the airport if you want."

"Sure Cass, that'd be great."

It wasn't long before they were giving a parting kiss and going their separate ways, Castiel leaving for a shoot and Dean walking outside on his cell phone, thanking his extremely rich manager for letting him borrow the company's private jet. He wouldn't be gone for long, but he still went back home and packed a bag to take with him. All he needed was some changes of clothes, a toothbrush, his razor, and a few other random necessities. He'd already informed his manager that he wouldn't be available for bookings for the next few days, hence why he needed the jet.

Sam knew what he planned and watched with a scowl of worry as Dean packed his bag, but the taller Winchester remained silent. He'd seen how Dean looked at Cass and how Cass looked at Dean; it was his brother's choice to take the chance, and Sam may be cautious, but after all Dean had sacrificed to get him and Sammy where they were in the world, Sam certainly wasn't going to be the one to interfere with his happiness. He just hoped Dean understood the consequences of this decision.

"Take care of the rookies, would ya?" Dean joked as he zipped his suitcase, referencing Gabriel, Anna, and Balthazar, who were newer to the industry than the Winchesters were.

Sam smiled. "Of course. Have a safe trip, Dean."

"Thanks Sammy."

Their eyes met and held for a moment, both knowing there was a lot more that could be said. Sam could stop Dean with the guilt card, he could logic him until he threw his hands up in surrender, he could remind Dean how long it had taken them to come this far. Any of those would have stopped his brother or at least made him second guess himself. But instead, Sam simply stepped out of the way of the door, watching his brother go with a vaguely forlorn expression. All he could think was,_ Castiel better be worth it._

* * *

><p>"I can't pick which ones to take to the interview!" Castiel panicked, scrolling through the photographs from the cover shoot. He had the "other" ones in a separate folder so he didn't get distracted. "I don't know what to do."<p>

On the other end of the line, Crowley sighed. "You've been in this for years, angel. Just pretend this is any other photo shoot."

"First of all you know I hate when you call me that, and second this _isn't_ any other photo shoot!"

Crowley snickered. The nickname "angel" was a tease directed at Castiel's childlike innocence, and though it was no longer as accurate as it used to be it still drove the photographer nuts. "Why don't you call Dean and have him come give you a blow job, I'm sure that'll help you focus."

"I do not find that amusing, Crowley," he deadpanned. _On the other hand, I do find it slightly tempting…_

"Just follow your instincts and be on time. And please, don't spend the entire plane ride bitching about picking the wrong ones."

Castiel's fingers stilled on the keyboard. "Plane ride?"

"I'm sorry, did I say plane ride? I meant to say we were _road tripping_ to Venice. Yes of course I said plane ride, idiot."

"Venice?"

"Am I stuttering?"

"I thought they wanted to interview me for being in charge of the American issues."

"Of course not. That branch is just starting out, they want you at the main base of operations, working for a high end Italian magazine. It's everything your life as a photographer has been _for_, Castiel," he added, sensing the hesitation that had begun creeping into the younger man's voice.

"I can't just move to Venice for this job. I have a life here. I have friends, I have a home, and I have Dean. Magazine or no magazine, I'm not leaving all that behind."

Crowley was getting impatient but didn't show it; sweet-talking was his specialty and he knew exactly what buttons to push. "Your friends and Dean would want the best for you. You'll never get another opportunity like this."

"Watch me."

"_Venice Garde _is one of Europe's most famous couture fashion magazines. You would be extremely stupid to pass this up."

Dial tone rung out on the other end of the line, leaving Cass to stare down at the phone. When Crowley told him about the interview, he'd had no idea that he was wanted in the heart of the industry. An industry growing with each day…it was practically the top rung of the ladder he'd been climbing since he was old enough to operate his father's old film camera. Crowley may be right in saying it would be the biggest mistake of his life to let it slip through his fingers, but even though he was used to not seeing his family much, he couldn't bear the thought of leaving Dean. Not after finally opening up to him, and trusting him…and falling in love with him. Dean Winchester was worth every inch of sacrificing the biggest career development that had ever come along in his life.

That decided, Cass selected his top five favorite pictures from the shoot and moved them to a folder so he could email them to the man in charge of the American issue of _Venice Garde _and whomever was in charge of the article could choose which one he wanted for the cover. It was ever so tempting to open the folder of photos taken during their little dressing room escapade, but he had a busy day ahead of time, so he sighed and closed his laptop. The pictures could be admired another day.

It wasn't long before Dean texted him, asking if he minded taking him to the airport, his address at the bottom of the message, and Cass sent back an affirmative before getting in his car and programming the address into its GPS. The house he arrived in front of some time later looked more like a mansion. Dean stood at the bottom of the stairs, waving to Castiel in greeting and grabbing the handle of his suitcase. Cass got out of the car, walking across the almost unnaturally green grass.

"You _live_ here?"

"Me, Sam, Gabriel, Anna, and the fashion designer dude we don't really see that often."

"It's beautiful."

Dean grinned. "Aw, just my humble abode."

"You? Humble? Please."

"Hey, don't go getting all sassy on me." The model gave his boyfriend's ass a playful slap as he walked by.

After the suitcase was loaded into the BMW they set off for the airport, Castiel wanting to drive simply to give him something to do. Something was on his mind and Dean saw it, but every time he asked what was wrong, the photographer smiled brightly and said everything was fine. Cass didn't want to tell Dean that he would miss him no matter how long he'd be gone, knowing how clingy and selfish that would sound. So he stayed silent, the only noise in the car coming from the radio that was blaring "Hot Blooded" thanks to Dean finding a radio station playing classic rock.

"And here we are," Castiel said as they parked.

"Yeah…"

"Have a good trip…call me when you land, let me know you got there safely."

"Of course."

There was an awkward silence. They had only been together for a week, yet it felt like they'd been married for ten years and were parting ways for the first time in their relationship. Even though Dean was coming back, neither of them quite knew how to say their goodbyes until whenever he was done sorting out his "family emergency." Finally, with a look in his eyes more tender and exposed than Castiel was prepared for, Dean leaned across the console and kissed his lover long and hard, holding Cass' face in his hands. They eased apart after several long moments, Dean pressing a much sweeter kiss to Castiel's lips before leaning back in his seat.

"So…I guess I should go."

"I'll still be here when you get back," joked the photographer.

Dean smiled, his words more sincere than he meant them to be when he said, "You better be."

He got out of the car, pausing when Castiel said, "Dean, wait…"

"Yeah?"

_I love you. _The words were on his lips, begging to be spoken. But instead, all that came out was, "I'll miss you."

Dean smiled warmly. "I'll miss you more, gorgeous."

Castiel's heart fluttered in his chest at the sound of his nickname. He watched Dean melt into the crowd, his suitcase rolling along behind him. Cass felt a little better having parted with him (no matter how short of time they were parting for) on a good note, and a smile graced his features as he exited the airport. Dean would be back soon, he'd made a firm decision to stay in New York no matter how glamorous Venice might be, and he'd decided not to stress over whatever (or _whom_ever) he'd smelt on Crowley. Life was good, why stress until he fucked it up?

And Castiel, so wrenchingly naïve, was anything but prepared for the heartbreak unknowingly about to hit him.


	9. Oh It's The Last Time

**Author's Note:**

**My amount of time between updates is totally unforgivable and I completely understand if you all hate me. *crawls under desk* School has been overbearing as fuck and repainting an entire bedroom is damn time consuming, so while that's still no excuse for how long this took, now you guys know that I haven't just been neglecting you, at least not voluntarily. Please please please forgive the lateness, and maybe even leave a review? *big brown puppy dog eyes***

* * *

><p>"<em>Oh up, down, turn around<em>

_Please don't let me hit the ground_

_Tonight I think I'll walk alone _

_Find my soul as I go home_

_Oh it's the last time, oh it's the last time…"_

_~Temptation by Moby_

Lawrence was familiar and welcoming in a way that could only be home. The business Dean was there on was far from pleasant, but the sight of it gave him a content, warm feeling he could never quite grasp in New York. _I want to bring Cass here someday. _The thought was abrupt and unbidden, and he tried to erase it from his mind. They were already pretty serious, but bringing Castiel back to his hometown may be pushing it. Not to mention that after what was about to go down, his father would need some time to cool down before Dean got Castiel within a hundred mile radius of the man. John Winchester was not exactly what you'd call pleasant company when he was angry.

Dean parked his rental car in front of one of his favorite haunts as a teenager, getting out and smiling up at the sign that read _Harvelle's. _He walked inside and grinned at the beautiful blond girl working behind the bar, who gaped in shock for a moment before leaping over the bar and sweeping him into a tight hug. He wrapped his arms around her tiny waist and hugged her back fiercely.

"Dean, it is so good to see you! How have you been?" Jo asked, leaning back to look at him.

"Well, I've met some pretty interesting people," he said, raising both eyebrows to convey just what meant by "interesting."

Her brown eyes twinkled with affectionate amusement. "You're a sorry man whore."

"And you're a skinny blond slut."

They dissolved into laughter. Years later they still called each other names that they meant not one bit. She was like the little sister he never had, and she was sure feisty enough to be a Winchester. Both sassy and pretty, Jo Harvelle had a way of keeping him on his toes just like Sam did sometimes. And then of course there was her mother, who was a bit of a surrogate mom to him and Sam. Ellen was direct and to the point, not taking anyone's bullshit and not afraid to tell him and Sam when they were acting like idiots.

"Well, look what the storm blew in."

Speak of the devil. "Hey Ellen," Dean greeted warmly, releasing her daughter to walk over and give her a hug.

He promptly got a bitch slap to the face that snapped his head to the side. "What, New York don't have no phones?"

"'Course they do, I just-"

"What, got busy? I'll tell you what boy, you don't just book outta town and forget about your friends. Next time you try that shit you can bet it won't be your face I'm bruising."

"Yes ma'am."

"That's better. Now sit yourself down and have a beer, you look like you could use one."

He chuckled and seated himself on the cracked red leather of a barstool. A slap, an argument, and a beer. Just like old times. Jo pushed a glass of his favorite across the bar to him, and he took it with a grateful nod. He'd missed the Harvelles, and he didn't realize until then just how far from his extended family he'd drifted. New York had its teeth in him, and though he loved the city, he couldn't repress a pang of longing at being back home. He was reminded of the days before modeling became his life and the times he would breeze into Harvelle's for a cold beer after a long day at his dad's shop.

But New York still had one thing Lawrence never would.

Just as Dean was starting to become immersed in thoughts of Cass, he heard his name being called from behind him. Turning, he recognized a mullet that could stand out in a crowd of millions. "Ash!"

"Man, you live and breathe!" the tech genius said, clapping Dean on the shoulder. "Yo Andy, look who washed up!"

Ash's best friend, Andy Gallagher, looked up from the booth he'd been sitting in. A dopey grin split his face. "Dean! We thought you'd gone and forgotten about us lowly little folks."

Two facts, neither of which surprised the model, became abundantly clear to Dean: Ash was drunk, Andy was high. Neither of these concerned him; on the contrary, he would be worried if his friends _weren't_ on their trademark vices, which consisted of beer for Ash and pot for Andy. The two were a couple of Dean's best friends from back in the day, and seeing them brought back memories of the trio sitting on the hood of the Impala in an open field every Saturday night, getting so drunk they had to lean on each other for support. Usually they all passed out on the windshield and woke up in the morning, hungover to hell and back.

"So, what brings you back to our neck of the woods?" Ellen questioned, handing Ash another beer.

Dean hesitated for a moment and cleared his throat. "Got some business to attend to." No point in lying. They knew him too well, they'd see right through him.

"I'll just bet you do, ya idjit."

Dean whirled around on his stool, face breaking into a muscle stretching smile when he saw the man that just walked in. His secondary dad looked the same as ever with his baseball cap and graying auburn beard. Bobby Singer had known the Winchesters for years and offered Dean and Sam not only the understanding that John had never tried to give them, but also telling them point blank when he thought they were being assholes or idiots about something, much like Ellen would. He had even given them a place to stay when Dean and John had gotten in a fight while his father had been drinking. Dean, only sixteen, had taken Sam and driven out to Bobby's salvage yard, the man accepting them with open arms.

They shared a brief hug before Dean leaned back and asked, "So, how'd you know I had some, uh…"

"'Business to attend to?' Well, big hot shot model like you makes a public announcement of havin' a boyfriend, the news travels pretty darn quick." He raised his eyebrows, being one of the few people that knew of Dean's arrangement.

"Oh." Dean strode back over to the bar, trying to avoid the curious glances fixed on him by his friends. Clearly they lived under rocks or something if they didn't know, but then again it was news from all the way in New York. Bobby was the one obsessed with keeping up with major news, especially New York because it concerned the Winchesters.

Bobby took a seat next to him. "So…Castiel Novak."

Dean's lips pulled up into an involuntary smile at the thought of his boyfriend. "That's him."

Jo, Ash, and Andy all leaned closer. "Tell us about him," requested the blond, smiling brightly. Even Ellen wandered over from where she was polishing a glass, her curiosity getting the best of her.

Dean grinned, an image of Castiel painting itself in his mind. "He's gorgeous…hell, scratch that, he's fuckin' beautiful. Dark brown bedhead, the softest lips on the whole damn planet…and god, you wouldn't believe his eyes. He's got the most hypnotic eyes…they're blue like sapphires and they shine like 'em, too. And he's…different. From any man I've ever known. He was so shy when we first met but he's coming out of his shell, and he's this sexy, confident man, and I…"

He finally realized everyone was staring at him. Bobby and Ellen shared a glance while Ash, Andy, and Jo all looked at each other in shock. For as long as they'd known him, Dean had never, ever spoken of someone quite like that. Like he was the most important person in the world, like he was entranced by the mere thought of Castiel. And really…he was. Which is why he could only finish his description with complete honesty, sounding raw and vulnerable but more sincere than with any words he'd ever spoken before.

"And…well, I love him."

* * *

><p>"You're not going to talk me into reconsidering."<p>

"Can't blame a girl for trying. But come on angel, doesn't Venice sound magnificent? And I hear it's a very romantic city…"

"Perhaps you're right." Castiel idly stirred his iced tea, gazing out the window over Crowley's shoulder as a glimmer of hope sparked in the older man's eyes. "Maybe Dean would like to accompany me there on vacation sometime."

Crowley groaned and dropped his head onto his arms, which lay folded on the table. His voice was muffled by the sleeves of his brand new Armani jacket when he said, "Hopeless. You're completely hopeless."

"You're right. Paris would be a much better destination."

"You're like a lovesick puppy, you know that, right?"

Cass hid a smile behind his menu. "Then you should know why I'd never leave Dean. I…"

"What?"

"Nothing. Not important."

They fell into silence. Castiel resumed staring out the aforementioned window, the image of jade green eyes drifting through his mind. The pair sat at a small café located a block from Castiel's apartment, Crowley using Dean's absence to commandeer Castiel's free time and hound him about reconsidering the job in Venice. Cass deflected his efforts without a second thought, but he wanted to strangle Crowley when he felt the beginnings of doubt lodging itself into the very back of his mind. What if his manager/assistant/occasional friend was right? What if he would live to regret not taking this opportunity? What if Dean understood and opted for a long distance relationship? What if, what if, what if…the endless loop of mental questioning was driving him insane. He couldn't believe that despite seeming outwardly unaffected, he was letting Crowley's words get to him.

Crowley had all but forgotten the sentence Cass had left hanging a few moments ago, but he looked up with a calmly raised eyebrow when the photographer blurted out, "I love him."

"Figured as much, darling. You wouldn't be fighting this offer so hard if you didn't."

Castiel absently tugged at a strand on the fraying cuff of his trench coat. No wonder it was falling apart, he'd had it since high school. "I can't leave him."

"So you've said. _Repeatedly_."

Cass knew the impatience in Crowley's voice wasn't so much anger as it was exasperation at the constant refusals. Save for some vaguely awkward small talk now and then, they ate in silence after ordering some very expensive pastries. Castiel warred with his inner conflict as they parted ways. He hadn't even told Dean about Venice. What would the model say? Would he insist that Castiel take the job for the sake of his career? Would he plead with him to stay? Would he just not give a damn and maybe give him a farewell fuck? Cass winced at the thought of the last one. That would hurt more than he could imagine.

Cass stood on the sidewalk, watching the retreating form of Crowley as he vanished from sight. He'd thought he had his mind firmly made up: he was turning down Venice and staying here with Dean, no matter what. But he at least had to confirm what he prayed was true, that Dean actually wanted him for that long. Just a safety measure. Once he heard aloud his reason to remain in New York, he could blow off _Venice Garde _with a clear conscience and not lose a bit of sleep over it. He supposed he could call Dean over the phone, but not only was it a conversation better had in person, but he hoped to give Dean some moral support when he got to Lawrence. He'd been through his fair share of family drama and knew how much it helped to have someone there to just tell you it was okay.

This in mind, he withdrew his cell phone and booked his flight.

* * *

><p>Dean spent a couple hours catching up with his old friends and telling them stories of New York before saying he was off to visit the old man, dropping enough to money on the counter to cover both his drinks and a handsome tip. He gave last hugs to everyone, eyes meeting Bobby's as he left. The man didn't need to remind him of the risks he was about to take; the look in his eyes said it all. But he was Bobby and Bobby wasn't the type to talk anyone out of what they thought was right. So he just whispered "Good luck" into Dean's ear and let him walk out of the bar without another word.<p>

Soon the model arrived at his house. Well, what used to be his house. It reminded him fondly of his childhood, of hot summer days spent chasing Sammy around the yard. He smiled slightly and walked inside, old steps creaking under his feet, the carefree spirit he'd been carrying around all day melting into a muted dread as he stepped over the threshold. _Here goes…well fuck, here goes pretty much everything._

Mary was nowhere to be found. Probably out doing some grocery shopping. Dean swallowed as he made his way upstairs to his father's office, grateful they had their privacy. He paused in front of the partially opened door and took a deep breath, pushing it open. It was the same as ever; cluttered with dim lighting made even darker by the wood panelled walls. The office was so different from the rest of the house, which Mary had decorated in a bright, cheerful color scheme with some floral prints here and there. Figures that John's office would be the dreariest room of the home.

"Hey, Dad."

Silence.

"We need to talk."

John turned in his desk chair to face his son, the _New York Times _spread across his lap. He didn't seem surprised by the spontaneous visit. "Yes we do, Dean." He gave one more look at the photo of his son and a handsome blue-eyed photographer before rising and meeting Dean's gaze squarely. "Yes we do." He slammed the newspaper down on the desk. His eyes burned with a rage Dean knew from childhood, a look that almost always accompanied bruises concealed by clothing and once, a black eye.

But he stared his father down and didn't even flinch.


	10. The Roof Caved In and The Truth Came Out

**Author's Note:**

**Thanks SO MUCH for the amazing response last chapter! That's what inspired me to spend as much of my free time between schoolwork working on this, so know that you guys are amazing :D I know my updates are a little sparse, and I am so sorry, but I promise I am trying to keep them coming! And yes, the secret comes out in this chapter, hope it isn't too anticlimactic :/ But trust me people, the repercussions will be phenomenal.**

**All of my love to every single reader out there!**

**P.S. I stayed up til 4:30 in the morning writing this, so if it's awful...I am very sorry.**

* * *

><p>"<em>I was so wrong for so long, only trying to please myself<em>

_Girl, I was caught up in her lust_

_When I don't really want no one else_

_So no, I know I should have treated you better, but me and you were meant to last forever_

_So let me in, give me another chance, to really be your man_

'_Cause when the roof caved in and the truth came out_

_I just didn't know what to do…"_

_~Whatcha Say by Jason Derulo_

"Got everything you need, angel?"

"Yes."

"And you'll give me a definite answer about Venice when you get back?"

"Yes, Crowley. Now I have to go or I'll miss my flight."

Crowley smirked and kissed Castiel on the cheek. "Run along then, darling."

"Planning on it…and Crowley?"

He turned back from where he'd started to walk away. "Hm?"

"I know you and I have gotten unusually close over these last few days, but in case you need reminded…I love Dean. If you think you're going to just woo me and whisk me off to Venice, then think again."

"Oh trust me, I've already got my hands full with one man. And speaking of which," he paused to glance down at his watch, "now _I_ have to be running along or _I'll_ be late for dinner at my place."

Castiel stopped dead in his tracks, unable to believe his manager/assistant hadn't mentioned this. "You're involved with someone?"

"Oh yes. Frequently."

"Too much information."

"Then you shouldn't have asked."

Cass smiled and readjusted his laptop bag on his shoulder. "I'll see you soon."

Crowley smiled back. "Have a safe flight."

They finally parted ways, and before Castiel knew it he had boarded the plane. He decided that once he arrived home with Dean, they were going out on a double date with Crowley and his new boyfriend no matter if his manager liked it or not. It was the first time he'd heard of the man being involved with someone for more than one night, or two if they were particularly good in bed. He smirked to himself and settled back against the leather seat, imagining Crowley's reaction to a double date. It would probably include some scornful remarks about no longer being in high school and Cass acting like a girl. The photographer smiled amusedly at the thought.

When the plane took off, he reached into his trench coat pocket for his iPod. He wasn't afraid of flying like some were but he certainly didn't have anything better to do until they landed. Sticking the earbuds in, he put it on shuffle and let it land on what it may. He ended up on 3OH!3's "We Are Young," the kind of happy upbeat music that he'd found himself starting to like over the past week. He leaned his head against the window and smiled.

"_We are young, we're on the run, and you're never gonna chase us down…we are young."_

* * *

><p>"So, this must be your pet whore," John commented, tapping his finger against Castiel's picture.<p>

Dean glowered furiously. "He's _not_ a whore. And he's not my pet."

"I did a little research on him," John continued as if he hadn't heard Dean. "The sweet little Catholic photographer…you just couldn't resist, could you son?" His smirk was harsh and bitter.

"Don't talk about him like you know him," Dean snarled. "You know _nothing_ about Cass."

"Cass? How sweet, you nicknamed him."

"Because I _love_ him, god damn it." Dean's voice was starting to raise.

"And that's the problem, Dean!" John yelled, becoming suddenly violent as he banged his hand into the desk. "I told you when I sent you and Sam to New York that you could fuck whoever the hell you wanted, but you can't go around 'falling in love' when you have commitments _here_!" He said "falling in love" like he was talking about a thirteen year old kid with a crush on a movie star, something completely laughable and unrealistic.

"Commitments?" Dean couldn't hold back his laugh of disbelief. "I never wanted this! I did it for Sammy, but damn it don't I deserve this _one_ thing?"

"You made your choice." John walked over to stand in front of Dean. He stared his son down like he did when Dean was a child in the way that could make a grizzly bear cower under the bed, but this time the model didn't move a muscle. He met his father's gaze evenly, maybe even challengingly. Noticing Dean's lack of fear, John's voice was heavy with menace when he spat out, "Time to make one more choice. Who's more important to you, Dean? Sam…or Castiel?"

Of all the things he could have asked, did it have to be _that_?

* * *

><p>Lawrence was actually kind of beautiful, Castiel was surprised to learn. He had spent his entire life in New York and had never really given much thought to traveling, but he felt a little too much at home where Dean had grown up. The town was small and not congested like New York City, the streets actually crossable without having a horn blared at you. The brightness of the sun, the smell carried to him by the warm breeze, the feeling of security it gave him…it was like Dean had embodied this town, for with them both Castiel felt a deep, unshakeable sense of being <em>home. <em>

He wasn't entirely sure where to find Dean, but in a close knit little town like this, he figured it wouldn't be too hard. But it was also late, so he decided to get a hotel room for the night and find Dean in the morning. He was exhausted from his flight. Thankfully though he avoided being jetlagged since there was only an hour's difference between the two time zones. But nonetheless the eight hour flight had him falling on his face as he checked into his newly acquired room.

He kicked off his shoes, shucked his coat, loosened his tie, and face-planted on the bed without further ado. It was only as an afterthought that he took his contacts out. While he didn't fear planes, for some reason his sleep was always restless on them. He looked forward to a night of rest that would be aided by the knowledge he could seek out Dean tomorrow. He smiled into his pillow. There was no doubt in his mind that his model would quickly erase all doubts he had about Venice, that they would get through whatever family drama his lover was facing, and that they would return happily to New York.

Oh, Castiel. Sweet, naïve Castiel. If he'd only known how wrong he was.

* * *

><p>Meanwhile in New York, Crowley lay leaned back against his headboard, rumpled blond hair tickling his neck as his companion half dozed beside him. Finally, he said, "So…what do you think of Venice?"<p>

"I think I prefer Brits to Italians, love," replied the tired voice.

Crowley smirked. "I'd certainly hope so. I mean the city…think it's somewhere you'd live?"

"That depends my darling, is it free of overly talkative business men that refuse to let me sleep?"

"Sorry. We'll talk more about in the morning." His dark eyes stared up at the ceiling, lost in thought.

"Best idea I've heard all night."

They settled down against the pillows, Crowley facing away and fixing his gaze on the view that lay beyond his window. _The city that never sleeps, _he thought fondly. It was beautiful; it was his home. But he'd throw it all away if it meant the opportunity that Venice presented him, and while he hoped he could talk his boyfriend (though he felt he was far too old to use that term) into going with him, he would give that up too if it was necessary. He wasn't Castiel, so he wasn't about to let some man get in the way of his career no matter how fond he was of the aforementioned "some man," who currently draped himself over Crowley in his sleep.

Nonetheless, had he been granted the choice, he never would have wished for Castiel's decision to have been made for him the way it was. No matter how apathetic and cold-hearted he may be, he wouldn't have wished that on anyone. But of course he didn't know of these circumstances yet because they had not quite happened, so when Crowley hesitantly laid his hand over the one of his partner's that rested on his waist (hesitant simply because cuddling in any form was not his forte), he fell asleep with an untroubled conscience.

* * *

><p>Castiel awoke and went about his routine as usual even though he was in a different environment. He showered, dressed, had breakfast (though he ate at a diner instead of in his own home), and set about his task, which instead of photography was locating Dean. However, this didn't stop him from taking the small, compact Canon he'd brought along with him and snapping a few shots of downtown Lawrence, the angles making the pieces of the town look almost ghostly and mysterious. He smiled to himself slightly as he walked into a bar called <em>Harvelle's. <em>Bars seemed the best places to ask around in an attempt to find someone.

"Hey sweetie, what can I do for you?" greeted an older woman, flipping her light brown hair out of her eyes as she looked up from refilling a glass of Bourbon.

"I'm hoping you might be able to help me," he started, sitting down at the bar. It was mostly deserted given the time of day, and he amusedly thought that only in small towns would a bar even be open at all this early. "I'm looking for Dean Winchester."

"You shoulda showed up yesterday man," said a young man with a mullet, looking up from where he'd been asleep on the pool table. "He just got into town, came in for a drink."

"Really? Do you know where he lives?"

A young, pretty blond leaned against the bar next to him and stared him down. "Who wants to know?"

"I'm Castiel, I am his partner. I heard he was having a family emergency and I came to offer my morale support. And who are you?"

"Jo Harvelle, and…my _god_! You're _that_ Castiel!" Her jaw dropped.

He gazed at her questioningly, and she elaborated, "He wouldn't shut up about you!"

A blush spread across his cheeks, but he couldn't hide a pleased smile even though he attempted to by ducking his head. "Would you mind telling me where he lives please?"

She snatched up a napkin and jotted down an address, holding it out to him.

He smiled gratefully. "Thank you. It was lovely meeting you all."

"Come back anytime honey," the older bartender said, giving him a friendly parting wave as he made his exit.

Once he was gone, Ellen frowned and turned to Jo. "What family emergency?"

"I didn't know he was having one…"

And from the corner, Bobby looked up and sighed, speaking a word of wisdom used in great times of disparity and heartache, a term only uttered when all was crashing down and the end was nigh. It cast a great wave of foreboding and fear when spoken in the presence of others. And only Bobby Singer could say it with such knowledge and conviction.

Pfft. Please. Seriously, all he said was, "Balls."

* * *

><p>Castiel pulled up outside the address given to him by Jo, turning off his GPS after reaching his destination. He looked up at the cozy, two story house and smiled. Once more he felt that deep sense of comfort and home. He got out of the car and made his way up the short driveway, bounding lightly up the steps and knocking on the door. It was several moments before anyone answered it.<p>

When it was finally pulled open, he was met with the sight of a scruffy man that he could only assume was Dean's father, judging from the slight resemblance.. He smiled politely and asked, "Is Dean here, sir?"

"Sure son, come right in." The man stood back to let him inside. "You're Castiel, right?"

"Dean mentioned me to you?"

"'Course he did!" The man gave a cheerful laugh and closed the front door. There was no sign of Dean, but Castiel figured he was upstairs.

Sure enough, the sound of feet pounding against stairs met his ears as Dean descended into the living room, but he was just a few steps too late. A few seconds was all John needed. A couple of spare moments was all that was required to wreck Castiel, to bring down the perfect little world he'd situated himself in. After niceties and introductions, John stood in front of Cass and let out a sad sigh.

"What's the matter?" Castiel asked.

John braced his hand on the photographer's shoulder, eyes alight with what looked like sympathy but was just the opposite. "You can't be with my son, Castiel."

Cass blinked in confusion. "Why not?"

"Because…" he started, inhaling deeply as if it hurt him to say this, "well, because of…"

"Me."

Castiel turned to see a striking woman walk in from the kitchen. She couldn't have been much younger than Dean, with smooth skin, wavy light brown hair, and a smile that could freeze fire even as it burned. She walked over and leaned against the banister of the staircase, looking at him with pure amusement on her face. Castiel was suddenly feeling lost, unable to piece together what was unfolding around him.

Dean finally reached the bottom of the stairs, but he was too late.

It was the beginning of the end and he knew it.

Because, smiling widely, John had already said, "Castiel…I would like you to meet my son's beautiful fiancé, Bela Talbot."


	11. It's Too Late To Apologize

***Hey again everyone! Again I am so terribly sorry for the lateness. And a huge thanks to everyone reviewing (from your accounts or anonymously), story alerting, and favorite storying! Your support means so very much to me :D All my love! Oh and one more thing: I am now on fictionpress (ItWasARobotHead) writing original fiction slash. Yeah, random trivia for the day :P**

"_I'd take another chance, take a fall, take a shot for you_

_I need you like a heart needs a beat but that's nothing new_

_Yeah, yeah_

_I loved you with a fire red now it's turning blue_

_And you say sorry like the angel heaven let me think was you_

_But I'm afraid…_

_It's too late to apologize, it's too late_

_I said it's too late to apologize, it's too late…"_

_~Apologize by OneRepublic_

"Cass, I can explain…"

Dean started walking towards him, but the damage was done. The confusion had already shed its skin, leaving in its wake a raw expanse of realization. Tears gathered in Castiel's eyes, clinging to his lashes quite like he had clung to hope up until Dean said "I can explain," the words that affirmed guilt as well as if not more efficiently than a direct confession. John and Bela wore satisfied smirks, and he could swear he heard a feminine laugh follow him as he turned and walked out the front door without another word. _They think it's funny_, he thought with a hollow detachment. His feet picked up their pace as he reached the bottom of the stairs, barely even registering the sound of the screen door creaking as Dean followed him out.

"Cass, wait! Please!"

The disparity in Dean's voice was like a knife to his heart, because it was just another lie. A lie like the first time they had sex, a lie like the charming smile Dean had shot him while asking for his number, a lie like the serenity he felt as they laid under the stars in the park, a lie like the love he thought he had seen in Dean's eyes just moments before he departed for Lawrence. Everything he thought he knew and trusted was a lie. The only real thing that had come out of the past week was that he had been genuinely, _honestly _in love with Dean. And look where it got him.

He slammed the door to his rental car, cranking it and peeling out of the Winchesters' driveway like the hounds of Hell were after him. That might be preferable to this. Alone in his car, he let the tears fall freely. They were shed silently, as if making a sound opened him up to the same vulnerability of love, the emotion he had kept under lock and key and only trusted Dean with. God, even _thinking_ his name hurt. Because along with it came memories of the all too perfect - all too apparently _fake_ - week they'd spent together.

When he looked in his rearview mirror, he saw that Dean was tailing him, so close that Castiel could see the cell phone in his hand. A moment later the photographer's phone started ringing. He ignored it without a second thought, reaching over to turn it off while he kept his other hand on the steering wheel. It gave a soft series of dings and cheerily said "_Goodbye_" before the screen drained to black. As more tears fell down his cheeks, he thought to himself, _Goodbye, indeed. I only wish it didn't hurt so much._

He considered going back to his room but swiftly changed his mind; he wanted away from this town as quickly as possible. His luggage remained in a suitcase by the dresser, but his laptop bag was in the seat beside him and in it was the small Canon he had brought along, so there was nothing in that suitcase that couldn't be replaced. He programmed the nearest airport's address into the GPS and followed its monotonous directions, suddenly intensely grateful to the little piece of machinery when he passed the sign that informed him he was now leaving Lawrence. Good. He never wanted to see that town again, never wanted to see Dean again. One would hurt, the other may tear him apart from the inside out.

He arrived at the airport with plans to book the first flight to New York City he could find, but when he got out and looked over his shoulder, he saw Dean getting out of his own car and walking towards him. Castiel promptly started walking away, going in no particular direction except whichever one led him the farthest away from Dean. He couldn't take looking up into those once beloved green eyes again.

"Cass, hold on!"

The photographer was going to ignore him, but that option was taken away when Dean grabbed his arm and turned Castiel to face him. Once, Cass would have thought the regret in Dean's eyes as he took in his hurt lover's tear streaked face was genuine, but he wasn't stupid enough to fall for that again. _Never again. _The hand on his arm felt like it was searing through the fabric to burn a brand into his skin, a scar to match the ones he would now forever bear on the inside.

"At least give me a chance to explain," Dean begged.

Cass didn't have much of a choice since he couldn't escape the death grip Dean had on his arm, so he simply hung his head and resigned himself to hear what the model had to say. Dean reached out and tilted his head up, gentle as could be as he wiped away Castiel's tears. Cass winced when Dean's hand extended towards him, remembering when the feel of his touch used to comfort him…if he'd only known that he should have just walked away that first day and never given Dean his virginity and soon after, his heart.

"God, Cass…" Dean whispered, voice breaking. "What have I done?"

It was rhetorical, but even if it wasn't then Castiel couldn't have answered, because he could never put into words how hurt and betrayed he felt at that moment. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of silence, Dean asked, "Look, can we go somewhere for lunch? I'll explain everything. Everything, Cass. I swear."

"No." It came out as a broken whisper, barely audible. "I'm done, Dean. _We're _done."

"But Cass-"

The photographer was already shaking his head. It was almost tempting to give in because the hurt in Dean's eyes looked so real, but he wouldn't…he _couldn't _put himself through that again. So he simply let the tears fell as he leaned up and pressed one last, bittersweet kiss to Dean's lips. With that kiss he decided that it was time to go, it was time to make a life where the people he loved wouldn't hurt him. He pulled away and stared into Dean's eyes, which were bright with tears that had yet to be shed.

"Goodbye, Cass." The model already knew what that kiss meant.

Castiel swallowed hard, choking back the urge to release the sobs so desperately wanting to break free. "Goodbye, Dean."

He was fifteen, maybe twenty feet away when he heard Dean say one more thing.

"I love you."

The photographer didn't even turn back. He stilled in his tracks, clapping his hand over his mouth to conceal the sound when he finally let the onslaught of tears come. Love had been the one thing he had longed for since college, and those were the three words he had dreamt of Dean saying to him one day. Through his sobs, he managed to reply with complete honesty. The one thing Dean had clearly never given him.

"I wish I could believe you."

And then it was over. Castiel walked away, not looking back to see if Dean was still standing there. He began sobbing in earnest, oblivious to the strange looks given to him by the passerby. After awhile he realized he didn't know where he was going, or even exactly what part of the airport he was in. Shaking, he collapsed into a plastic chair as hard and unforgiving as the walls forming around his heart. His entire body was wracked with sobs as he let go of the emotions that had tormented him since the second he heard "_fiancé._"

"Why did you do this?" he cried to no one in particular. "All I wanted was to make you happy, and this is what you do?" He sobbed out the words that had sounded to weak to voice aloud to Dean, and somewhere in the back of his mind, a cruel voice whispered that it was his fault that Dean had done this to him. _You weren't good enough for him…when have you ever been good enough for anyone, Castiel? Who could possibly want to love you?_

Quite literally crying his heart out, he succumbed to the voice, allowing it to consume him.

...

When he finally got the sobs to subside, he withdrew his cell phone and started scrolling through his contacts. He needed someone to pick him up from the airport when he arrived back in New York. Gabriel was out of the question; he was with Dean's brother, that would just be a disaster. Cass hit the number on his speed dial for Jimmy, listening to it ring and wiping the wetness from his cheeks. He knew his cheeks must be ruddy, his eyes puffy and red. Oh well. Didn't matter, it wasn't like there was anyone left to worry about looking good for.

"You've reached Jimmy Novak's voicemail, if you don't know to leave a message at the beep then you're one stupid son of a-"

Castiel hung up and sighed. Anna had been acting somewhat strangely, and she was probably busy. He finally gave up on calling family members and dialed a familiar number, hoping he didn't end up with another voice messaging system as he held the phone to his ear and sniffling. Damn breakdowns. God, he was tired, he realized. Emotionally and physically drained to the point of wanting to fall asleep right there on the bench upon which he was sitting.

"Hello, darling."

Cass had never been so relieved to hear that accent before in his life. His voice was still cracked and hoarse from crying when he said, "Crowley?"

"You don't sound so good. Lover's tiff?"

"More than a tiff," he replied quietly, knowing Crowley was unaware of how much that comment stung.

"Do I need to come kill that Winchester brat?" Crowley asked calmly, his voice icy yet protective.

Cass pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers, a headache starting to gather at his temples. "No, I just need you to pick me up from the airport when I get back to New York. Please," he added demurely. His old shyness and lack of confidence was starting to resurface.

"Of course darling. Text me when you land."

"I will. Thank you, Crowley."

"Anytime."

They hung up, and more tears fell as Cass tucked his phone back into the pocket of his trench coat. He had never felt such an overwhelming sense of loneliness before. His heart felt like it was broken into a million pieces, laying around inside his chest reduced to broken shards that cut him every time he reached for one in an attempt to piece himself back together. Even as he sat in the midst of a crowded airport and despite knowing he had the support of his friends and family to fall back on, he had a bone-deep sense of being completely and utterly, well…_alone._

* * *

><p>Crickets chirped. Moonlight shone down from a clear sky. The hood of the Impala was familiar and smooth. Dean laid back against the windshield, staring up at the stars. A white hot pain seared through his chest as he longed for Cass to be lying there at his side. He was ashamed to feel tears gathering in his eyes; no matter how badly he had fucked up, no matter how much he missed his photographer even though it had been a mere matter of hours since he'd left Castiel at the airport, he shouldn't cry. He should be a man about this, damn it.<p>

_Fuck it, you were head over goddamn heels for him and look what you've done, _he thought bitterly, dropping his tough front. Not like there was anyone around to see him cry about it like a freakin' girl anyways. In typical Winchester fashion, he had managed to fuck up the best damn thing to ever happen to him. He had fallen in love with Castiel and ruined what they had all in one blur of a week. And at some points, when he looked down into the photographer's eyes, he held out an inkling of a hope that one day Cass would love him too. Now he was never going to see him again unless fate was cruel enough to force them into working together once more.

"Goddamnit…why couldn't I have just been honest with you?" he whispered, taking a swig from his half empty bottle of whiskey.

Bela Talbot had all the power in the world over him. Namely because not only did she hold the key to his career, but to Sam's. His only weakness…well, his only weakness until Castiel had come along. The moment his lips had touched the top of that smooth, soft hand, it had all been over. One thrust into that tight, hot body, one look into those inexperienced, wanton blue eyes and he was a goner. He would be lying if he said it had been love at first sight; the minute he saw Cass, he knew he wanted to fuck the photographer so hard he would _never_ forget Dean for as long as he lived, but it wasn't until later that he started falling in love. He couldn't honestly pinpoint the exact moment he started feeling more than just purely physical attraction.

Meeting the love of his life and meeting his downfall weren't as different of encounters as he would have liked. He met them, he charmed them, he fucked them. But after that the two relationships went down completely different paths. He didn't like recalling how he first became involved with Bela, but he begrudgingly admitted that he had to come to terms with the woman he was apparently trapped with for the rest of his life. John and Bela knew he was going back to New York to work, but he could never again have the luxury of actually _loving _someone. He would be married out of sheer convenience. All because fate threw him into the arms of the deceitful, conniving Bela Talbot.

"_So, an up and coming model," Bela said, standing up from the bed and pulling a short, silky robe from her suitcase. They had gone back to her hotel room._

_He watched as she pulled the robe around her naked body. "Yeah, me and my brother. We're not having a whole lotta luck so far…it'll break Sammy's heart if he has to go home."_

"_Shame my father isn't more…personable."_

"_What do you mean?" he asked, lounging comfortably on her massive bed._

_His eyes were closed, so he didn't see the wickedness starting to gleam in her eyes. "He knows some very big names in the modeling business…you two would be all over the magazines in no time." He sat up, immediately alert, but she sighed and said, "However, he doesn't take in new models for no reason. Last time he took a newbie under his wing was three years ago and that was just because he was my boyfriend."_

_A lightbulb flicked on in his head, and his life began whirling out of control._

_And so the plan was formed. He would pretend to be her boyfriend so her father would help him and Sam, but of course they were free to fool around with whomever they wanted to as long as her dad didn't catch wind of it. Before long he found himself and his brother in high demand, both living the life they had always dreamt of but never believed possible. It was almost too good to be true._

_As it turns out, it _was _too good to be true. Bela started becoming more demanding with how committed they appeared to her father, and Dean choked on his drink when she suggested they become engaged. They hardly ever saw each other save for occasionally going over to her father's house to make a display of being a "couple" for appearances' sake. Now she wanted him to propose to her? He stared at her and, when he stopped coughing from the bourbon he'd choked on, told her she was ten kinds of crazy._

_Her charming, friendly demeanor vanished in the blink of an eye. Eyes cold (which were even icier than usual thanks to the accentuation of her long, loosely curled hair and form-fitting black cocktail dress), she rose from the table and grabbed her purse, stopping to hiss something into his ear before leaving. "My father knows every single person supporting you and your brother. All I have to do is say the word and he will trash your names so badly you'll never be able to show your face in the modeling industry again. So why don't you rethink that decision, Dean."_

_He could only stare after her in shock as she exited the restaurant, the click of her high heels fading as the door fell shut behind her._

It had been the start of every bad thing to happen to him. Since Sam's career hung in the balance as well as his own, in his eyes he had no choice but to comply with Bela's terms. When Sam found out about it he tried to tell Dean that it was okay, that they could go back home and start over, but the older Winchester wasn't hearing a word of it. Sam had found himself a boyfriend, a fellow model named Gabriel (who the hell would have thought he would be related to the same man Dean would fall in love with?), he had a great career, and was happier than Dean had ever seen him. Dean wasn't going to let his own dread about marrying a woman he didn't love stand in the way of that.

In the beginning, it had been fairly cut and dry. He had met Bela at a bar, they had gone back to her hotel room, and despite being more on the gay side of bisexual, he couldn't deny enjoying the feel of her ample breasts in his hands and her wet center gripping his throbbing member. In bed she was much like she was in real life; controlling, fierce, and gorgeous. Much like a tigress. But also like a tigress, she was as deadly as she was beautiful.

Even thinking of her perfectly shaped face and toned body, she didn't have anything on Castiel. He was more beautiful than she could ever hope to be. She lacked his piercingly bright eyes, his sexily rumpled hair, and even her face didn't look quite so sculpted from marble and shaped by the gods. _Man, either that's the whiskey talkin' or you've got it worse for Cass than you thought. _Dean snorted amusedly at the little voice in his head. Once, when complaining aloud that his inner Jiminy Cricket wouldn't shut the fuck up, Cass had said he had an irritating "little voice" of his own.

But he had crossed a line, and now that it had been crossed, Castiel was out of his life for good. All of the love he'd felt, every moment as he fucked into that tight body and lost himself in the ecstasy, all of it had been leading up to one big heartbreak for both of them. He had screwed up before, done it more times than he could count on one hand, but this was bigger than ever. He had never managed to betray and hurt someone has much as he had just done to Cass.

And there wasn't a goddamn thing he could do to fix it.


	12. Your Heart Is Full Of Broken Dreams

***Okay, so I realized a minor plot hole last chapter. Dean had his Impala, but that would still be in New York, so for the story's sake I'm saying he was already back in NY during that scene. And to the anonymous reviewer Cassidy, reading your review was so trippy, we have the same name LOL! Thanks for the feedback :D And of course thanks to all of my other fantabulous reviews!**

"_Your heart is full of broken dreams_

_Just a fading memory_

_And everything's gone, but the pain carries on_

_Lost in the rain again, when will it ever end?_

_It's hard to believe_

_It seems so out of reach_

_I am with you, I will carry you through it all_

_I won't leave you, I will catch you_

_When you feel like letting go_

'_Cause you're not…you're not alone."_

_~Not Alone by Red_

Crowley got out of his car, looking around for Castiel. The airport was seething with passengers and people there to pick up friends and family, making it nearly impossible to spot the photographer. He withdrew his phone, about to text him and ask where the bloody Hell he was, but an armful of Castiel Novak quickly aborted that notion. Crowley raised his eyebrows as Castiel cried into his jacket, holding onto Crowley as if his legs were too weak to stand on. His manager's eyebrows may have been somewhere in his hair by this point, but Crowley still (somewhat awkwardly) wrapped his arms around Cass and tried to soothe the shaking young man.

"Shh, it's okay, it's going to be okay Castiel," he murmured, mentally making himself a promise that he would kill Dean Winchester and whoever else was responsible for this if it was the last thing he did.

Cass continued sobbing into his suit, feeling tiny and delicate in Crowley's arms. "I don't know what to do…what am I going to _do_?" he cried hysterically.

"Well first we're going to get you home, and you're going to tell me what happened."

They stayed that way for several long moments before Castiel nodded, pulling away and wiping his eyes. Ashamed, he hung his head to hide it from Crowley's view. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to, well...I just, I…" He trailed off when Crowley slung an arm around his shoulders, pulling him away from the large crowd.

"You have nothing to apologize for, darling."

The photographer fell silent after that, getting in Crowley's car and fastening his seatbelt, working off of autopilot alone. He just wanted to sleep and never wake up. Crowley's BMW came to life with a soft purr as he turned the key in the ignition, Cass dropping his head against the window and closing his eyes. New York surrounded him with a comfort not unlike the reassurance a blanket offers to a child; warm and familiar. The smell of leather upholstery and the subtle scent of Crowley's cologne lulled him into a doze, drifting in and out of consciousness as his manager silently drove him home.

Awhile later, a hand gently shook his shoulder. "Wakey wakey sunshine, we're here."

Castiel pried his eyes open, finding himself not in front of his own apartment but parked in front of the broad expanse of Crowley's house. He didn't protest, glad to just be somewhere familiar. He left his shoes on the porch right beside the door, knowing how picky his manager/assistant was about his beloved house. As he walked inside, Crowley insisting on carrying what little luggage he still had, he decided that this was better than going home. There were too many memories of Dean there. Thinking of the hard, rough fucking they had done on the living room floor made his heart ache and, damn animal reactions to the deepest pits of Hell, his pants tighten slightly. Even after everything Dean had put him through, despite how exhausted he was, he was still affected by the memory of the way he'd impaled himself on Dean's cock, riding him and…

_STOP IT, _his mind demanded. That part of him was over now, and he had to let go of it. Especially the memories of what had followed, of the night he spent asleep in Dean's arms, so sure that his model wouldn't dare hurt him like his boyfriend did. A sharp pain pierced his heart once more at the thought. Thoughts jumpy and out of order, he curled up on Crowley's couch, pulling a black fur throw over his lap and tugging it around himself. He was suddenly cold after extracting his mind from memories of Dean. Crowley seemed to notice but didn't comment, putting his hands in his pockets and worrying his bottom lip between his teeth as he debated over how to address the situation. He knew one wrong word could very possibly send Cass back into hysterics.

"So," he started, sitting next to Cass on the couch, "do you want to talk about it?"

"No." Crowley nodded his understanding. Then Castiel added, "I have a favor to ask."

"Anything."

Castiel turned to him, eyes still red from crying but resolute. "Take me to Venice."

* * *

><p>"So what are you going to do now?" Sam asked.<p>

Dean sighed, tapping his glass against the bar. "Well right this instant I need to get my ass in gear because I have a shoot to get to, but after that? No fuckin' clue, Sammy."

Sam sighed and watched as his brother dropped a five on the bar to cover his drink, Dean giving his younger sibling a pat on the shoulder as he left. Dean would have had more than just one beer, but he was on his way to a photo shoot for a Ralph Lauren ad, so he couldn't even get buzzed. He had a feeling alcohol would quickly become a well trusted vice in helping numb the pain of losing Cass. But he would have to save it for later, because losing his career over being drunk on the job after all he'd gone through with the Bela and Cass situation would just be stupid to all new extremes.

"Mr. Winchester, hi!" greeted an insanely perky blond when he arrived at the shoot.

He flashed a bright, fake smile. "Hi there, nice to meet you, miss…?"

"Oh! Rosen!" she said, blushing and giggling. "Becky Rosen."

"Well then Becky, care to show me the way to the dressing room?"

"Of course, right this way," she said, leading him down a short hallway. "Just take the door on your left, the makeup crew is set up and waiting for you. Any questions just yell for me!"

"Alright, thanks Becky."

He smiled for real this time as she disappeared down the hall. Her perkiness gave him a bit of a headache since he wasn't in the best of moods, but her happiness was a nice change from the doom and gloom that had been swimming around in his head all day. Having the makeup crew swarming around him and feeling a comb be pulled through his hair was just familiar enough to calm his mind until he was mostly at ease. He felt a prickle of excitement, a feeling that had never gone away even long after he had begun modeling. Something about staring into the lens of the camera, putting his body on display for the world…it made his heart skip a beat. Some may call it a shallow profession, but modeling was his passion.

The shoot was on in five minutes. He walked back down the narrow hallway and into the main studio, suddenly coming to a stop as he saw a black haired, gangly young photographer approaching.

"_You must be Castiel," Dean greeted to the blue-eyed, dark haired knockout that had just walked through the door._

_That gorgeous face tinged red for a moment as he took in Dean's body, clad only in a towel. His eyes returned to Dean's face, visibly shying away from the silent come-on he saw there. "Yes. Castiel Novak. Pleasure to meet you."_

_Dean reached down, taking the photographer's slim, pale hand that he had extended and bringing it to his lips. He kissed it slowly, looking up and seeing the flush of Castiel's skin spread from his cheeks across the expanse of his handsome face. It was then that Dean knew this one wasn't getting away. His eyes spoke volumes as he released Cass' hand. All he knew was that before this was over, he was going to fuck this man until he couldn't pound Castiel's body into a wall any longer._

Dean drew in a sharp intake of breath. The memory was abrupt and unbidden, consuming him for a moment and prompting the photographer - who looked nothing like Castiel, really - to ask him if he was okay. He nodded a quick affirmative that was a complete lie, briskly shaking the man's hand with uncharacteristic formality. The shoot was seamless, and all thoughts melted away as he started posing before the camera. He wore a solid white suit, colored only by an emerald green handkerchief folded neatly into one pocket. A surly, sexy look was aimed at the viewer of the picture, his eyes burning the same bright green as the silk tucked into his pocket. He always gave modeling 100%, but something had him more into it than ever today.

Then the camera flashed right in his eyes, blinding him to everything but pieces of the room around him a shock of dark hair.

_Castiel crouched behind his tripod, finger tapping the button on top of his camera with rapidly quick succession. His posture was full of a tension Dean knew all too well. He was hardly making Castiel's life easy with the provocative poses he kept assuming, but he was just enjoying the wanton expression gracing the photographer's features too much to stop. Professionalism be damned. He was well aware he had the older man caught hook, line, and sinker._

_Their eyes met over the top of the camera for a moment, their attraction searing between them like a palpable force. _

Dean held his pose, carefully schooling his facial expression so it didn't betray his slip of composure. He wished he could escape these memories, wished he had something, _somewhere_ he could go that wouldn't throw how badly he had fucked things up in his face. Castiel was everywhere he looked and his phantom presence seemed to follow him wherever he went. It was growing maddening. More than anything he wanted to mend what he'd broken and convince Cass just how much he loved him, that he would die before he would do anything else to hurt him.

When he finally arrived home, he found his feet carrying him towards his computer on their own accord. Sam was downstairs with Gabriel, the pair giving him sympathetic looks in passing as he walked by them and went upstairs, though Gabriel's eyes hid a dark hostility. Balthazar, looking irritated for some reason, didn't even seem to notice when Dean walked through the door. He just proceeded with whatever design he was scribbling into his sketchbook. Anna glared daggers into his back so hard it was a miracle it didn't burn right through his jacket and brand his skin. Apparently she had found out what happened, then. Or at least found out he had hurt Cass in some way.

He sat down in front of his computer and logged on, tapping his fingers impatiently against the desk as it came to life. There was something he had been wanting to do for a long, long time and now seemed a better time than ever to do it. If ignoring thinking of Cass didn't work, then he would indulge it. And oh he had the perfect material to "indulge" with. Said material had been sitting depressingly dormant on his hard drive for over a week, just begging to be opened and explored.

His finger seemed to double click the folder on its very own accord, the long rows of photographs filling the screen. Swallowing, he right clicked the first one and selected _Slideshow _from the options it gave him. Then a photo of him and Castiel enlarged, the image there making him painfully hard inside his jeans. Castiel's head was leant back against the mirror, one of Dean's fingers inside his entrance. It was clear by the angle of his hips in the photo that he was fucking himself onto Dean's fingers. His eyes were closed in pain and pleasure.

Dean undid his jeans, his hand sliding into his boxers. A low moan slid from him as his fingers touched his hardness. The next picture appeared on screen, the one prior slowly disappearing in a crossfade. Castiel's face was twisted in shocked pleasure, Dean's cock now buried inside him. His nails looked to be digging into whatever surface they could find. Dean pressed his palm down into himself and moaned gutturally. _God, he looked so fucking hot…_Dean thought.

Pictures went by and he grew closer and closer, nearly to the edge by the mere _reminder _of his angel. He keened deep in his throat, arching up into his own hand. His eyes didn't leave the screen once. Then he saw Castiel coming, that slender body arched off the counter and his mouth open in what Dean knew was a loud moan of absolute ecstasy. The model suddenly imagined it was Castiel's hand on his erection, his sweet smelling breath at Dean's ear as he pushed his lover to the edge with his rough ministrations. Shuddering, toes curling in his boots, Dean came with a barely suppressed shout. Meanwhile the slideshow came to an end and gave him the option to close or play again.

Hands shaking, he closed the slideshow out and walked over to sit on the edge of his bed without a second glance. Even gone, Castiel still affected him. He sighed and pulled out a change of clothes as he walked over to his adjoined bathroom. A shower had to be the best idea he'd had all day. But even when he got the water almost scalding hot, letting it pelt down on his skin and wash away his thoughts until his mind was blank, he could still feel the phantom presence of Castiel at his ear, stroking him through his orgasm. Once out, he wiped a hand over the fogged up mirror and stared at his reflection. He made a decision.

One way or the other, he was getting his Cass back.

* * *

><p>Castiel was getting sick and tired of planes. He was now aboard one heading for Venice, closing his eyes as it soared off the runway. His heart twisted at the thought of leaning New York behind him. He had called and told Jimmy, Gabriel, and Anna that he was leaving for an interview and to wish him luck. When they asked about Dean, he had to repress tears while telling them it just didn't work out. He didn't think his heart couldn't take explaining it all over again. There was a whole new life waiting for him, and if he was going to ever be happy again then Dean Winchester couldn't be part of it.<p>

Crowley was next to him reading _Good Omens, _bitching for the umpteenth time about Gaiman and Pratchett stealing his name for their own profit, but Cass didn't even hear it. It wasn't until he felt a hand on top of his own that he looked over into the older man's dark eyes. Crowley stared at him with - miracles never cease - genuine concern. Castiel drew his hand back and laid them awkwardly in his lap, fidgeting. The last person to touch him intimately, even though Crowley more than likely only meant it as a friendly gesture, had been Dean. Castiel still didn't like people touching him.

But his manager/assistant was the only friend he was going to have, so he resigned himself to surrendering to the emotional exhaustion he still felt and tentatively rested his head on Crowley's shoulder. The older man didn't push him away. Instead Crowley wrapped a careful arm around Castiel, and Cass let him. The photographer figured it would be a very long time before he was able to trust anyone again, but Crowley was a form of stability, something he needed desperately in his life right now. Sleep started clouding his mind as the scent of Crowley's and someone else's cologne lulled him off.

He finally, subconsciously realized whose it was, but sleep claimed him before the thought could take form.


	13. The Scars Of Your Love

**Author's Note:**

**A shout out to two people to start the chapter off. Firstly to anonymous-unknown, who put not one but both pieces together before this was even posted. You'll understand. And also to CalmintheChaos, thank you so much for all of your tips/suggestions about Venice! Though the description in this chapter isn't extremely long, the city will play a huge part in the rest of the story, especially now that I have a bunny for one of its famous landmarks. So yeah, you both rock!**

**Again Cassidy, thanks for the review! :D And I cannot thank the rest of you enough as well, your responses never fail to be phenomenally awesome! It keeps me writing!**

* * *

><p>"<em>The scars of your love remind me of us<em>

_They keep me thinking that we almost had it all_

_The scars of your love, they leave me breathless_

_I can't help feeling_

_We could have had it all, rolling in the deep_

_You had my heart inside of your hand_

_But you played it to the beat."_

_~Rolling In The Deep by Adele_

Dean sat in the café, tapping his fingers anxiously against the table. He looked at his watch. Oh, well no wonder he was waiting. It was fifteen minutes before he was supposed to be there. Precisely fourteen minutes later, the man he was there to meet walked through the door. His heart twisted as he took in the dark hair, sapphire blue eyes, and lithe gait. That body he had become so familiar with was clad in a simple black suit, white dress shirt, and blue tie. No trench coat. Dean took a sip of his coffee to distract himself. He missed that coat, damn it.

"What do you want, Dean?" snarled a hostile voice.

He sighed. When he looked up, fiery eyes were staring down at him, the older man's body nearly shaking with fury. "Would you just sit down so we can talk about this like adults?"

"I'll sit down so I can reach across this table and kick your fuckin' pansy ass," Jimmy muttered, lowering himself onto a chair begrudgingly. "This better be good."

Dean stared at him. From a distance he looked exactly like Cass, but he was missing a few key traits. The rough voice, the wild hair, the trench coat…they were identical in every sense of the word except for the minor details that made Cass who he was. The little things Dean had fallen in love with. But thinking about that with his ex's twin in the room was just awkward, so he pushed those thoughts aside and straightened in his chair. Somehow Jimmy actually managed to look intimidating for a guy Dean could easily mistake for a tax accountant.

"I want to talk to Cass. But he's not at his apartment and Crowley's gone. Where is he?"

"Somewhere over the rainbow."

"Very funny. For real damn it, I need to know where he is. At least let me apologize and explain myself in person, he deserves that much." When Jimmy's expression didn't change from its current one of distrust and quite possibly hatred, Dean resulted to Plan B. "This is his choice too, you know. Do you really want to take his life out of his hands like his boyfriend in college did? I think he's had enough of that for one lifetime, he sure don't need it from his own brother."

Jimmy's fist clenched on the table, shaking his head slowly. "You're one smooth talking son of a bitch, Winchester."

"I'm being honest. Don't do this for me, do this for Cass."

For a moment his hard gaze wavered, but then it snapped back into place. Jimmy rose to his feet and leaned down, his voice icy in Dean's ear. "There is something I will do for him. Since he's not here to say it, I will. Go _fuck yourself_. And don't you _ever _try to imply that I would do to him what his boyfriend did, or that I can't take care of him. If you want to point a finger at someone for hurting him even worse than his first love did, look in a mirror you bastard."

And with those words hanging in the air, he left.

* * *

><p>"My God…it's beautiful," Castiel whispered.<p>

Venice was like something out of a fairytale. He was surrounded by architecture that looked to be from another time, the street beneath his feet was cobblestone, and in the distance he could see a canal, the water blue as what one might find in the ocean. Even the air seemed to taste of Old World romance. Said air was stifling and humid, but he couldn't bring himself to care the slighest bit. He didn't hesitate in reaching into his bag and withdrawing his camera, wishing he could capture every single inch of the city. His interview wasn't until tomorrow morning, so he had the entire rest of the day to explore. Currently it was late afternoon, him and Crowley having already unpacked at their hotel and headed out to sightsee. Crowley, who had got caught up flirting with a gorgeous Venetian man in a bistro, finally caught up with Cass while the photographer was still wandering around snapping photos of Venice. He held out some sort of flaky pastry.

"What is this?" Castiel asked, looking at it curiously.

"Haven't the faintest, love. Can't pronounce it. But they're delicious."

Castiel shrugged and took it, taking a small bite. _My God_, he thought in ecstasy. It was like the pastry that won Heaven's bakeoff. He thanked Crowley before proceeding to devour it, his appetite knocked out of whack by the long flight. Crowley walked alongside him as they ambled down the sidewalk in silence. It was nice. Peaceful. A handful of street venders attracted his attention and he picked up a few things here and there along the way. Crowley bought a black silk tie he was rather taken with and Castiel chose not to mention that it was practically identical to the one he was already wearing.

As they walked, Castiel thought that he would have loved to come here with Dean someday. Had things worked out differently. Had it been Dean in Crowley's place he would have reached over and shyly took the model's hand, and he knew he would have felt Dean's fingers lace with his own. Those jewel toned green eyes would have been so gorgeous under the soft afternoon light, and he could picture Dean purchasing little knickknacks for Cass just _because. _It was the sort of man he was. And those little gifts would have made Castiel's entire day. But alas, those days were behind him. The love in Dean's eyes had been...misguided. As badly as he wanted to, Cass couldn't bring himself to think Dean had cared nothing for him at all. Thinking that hurt too much. Dean had felt something for him, but that would never fix what the model had broken. Nothing could. So the photographer distracted himself with a worry more trivial, less heartbreaking.

Cass sighed. "I have no idea what to wear to the interview."

"Nothing too dressy, and I'd tell you not to show up in a t-shirt and jeans but I don't think you own them. The trench looks a bit too much like you're trying to be Major of the Salvation Army, but lose that and what you're wearing is fine. Just don't look like you're trying too hard."

"So don't douse myself in expensive cologne and look like the poster boy for an Armani ad."

"Oh shut up."

Castiel smirked and held up his camera, snapping a picture of the sunlit water of one of the canals. He photographed some of the more elaborately dressed people that walked by, even took a shot of Crowley when he was silhouetted against a particularly interesting backdrop of sunlight. They didn't return to their hotel until the sun had sunk low on the horizon, twilight starting to make an appearance in the sky. Crowley had to do everything short of drag Castiel away from his newfound beloved city. Venice suited Castiel like the stars did the moon, both so reluctant to leave each other if only until tomorrow. He had thought that New York was the only place he could ever feel at home, but being in Venice was making him long to see the world, explore the cultures he had only read of in novels.

"This place is so amazing," he sighed as he draped his trench coat over a chair.

Crowley chuckled, loosening his tie. "That's because you've never left New York, angel. Anywhere new is going to look amazing to you."

"That's not true. There's just something about this city." He sat down on the edge of his bed and started flipping through the pictures he had taken throughout the day.

The room was fairly large, but seeing as the hotel was nearly booked solid they were stuck sharing it. The only upside was that their beds were on opposite ends of the room. When he looked up, he was surprised at what he saw. Crowley sliding his shirt down his arms wasn't the surprise; no, it was the brightly colored dragon tattoos Castiel saw on his arms and shoulder blade. He got to his feet and walked over to get a closer look. Crowley turned to let him see the rest, and Cass saw that besides the ones on his arms and shoulder blade, there was also one on his chest.

"I didn't figure you for the tattoo type, Crowley."

Crowley smirked. "These are from my younger days. Friend of mine, Lilith, did them for me."

"They're interesting. Mind if I take pictures?"

His manager/assistant rolled his eyes. "Go on then."

After he was satisfied with his new photos, Castiel packed his camera back into its case and placed it on the nightstand. He dug some clothes to sleep in out of his suitcase and went into the adjoined bathroom to take a much needed shower after his day long tour of Venice. It had already been arranged that he would shower at night and Crowley could have it in the morning. _I haven't had to make a bathroom schedule since I still lived at home, _he thought amusedly. Anna had staked a claim on showering in the mornings so she could look picture perfect for school, leaving Jimmy and Cass to work out showering at night.

He recalled being very young and not understanding why he and Jimmy couldn't just shower together. They were twins, it wasn't like they were going to see anything of each other's that they didn't already have themselves. But Michael had stared in horror and said it was bad enough that they shared a bed, they certainly weren't going to see each other - and his voice had been halting as if he was speaking an incredibly dirty word - _naked. _Seven year-olds Castiel and Jimmy had not understood his revulsion but had no choice but to obey, sharing a bed until they were sixteen and their uncle Zachariah finally made Michael put his foot down about it.

Jimmy and Castiel were unusually close, even for twins. They could sense when the other was hurt, finish each other's sentences, and knew each other better than anyone else ever could. Sometimes late at night, when a storm was raging outside (they _hated _storms), one would crawl into the other's bed and be sure to be out by in the morning so they weren't caught. Of course everyone jumped to conclusions that there was some sort of incest going on, but they didn't understand the twins. James and Castiel Novak were two halves of the same person divided into two separate bodies. Or at least that's how Jimmy had phrased it when they finally moved out at eighteen and he was helping Cass pack for college.

Presently, Castiel stripped out of his clothes and started running water. Thinking of his brother brought back memories he never wanted to think of again. His eyes squeezed shut as if to fend them off, but they still lingered in the back of his mind, shadows of the horrors they had once been. The years had lessened their power but never depleted it entirely. He would never forget his first love, and now thanks to Dean, he couldn't possibly forget his second. And he _certainly _wasn't ever going to investigate that saying about third time's the charm. He'd had enough "charming" relationships for one lifetime and possibly the next, thank you very much.

But that didn't mean the ghosts of his past ever stopped reappearing to him.

_Castiel drug himself towards his dormitory, rubbing his eyes as they adjusted to their newly acquired contact lenses. His biophysics teacher, Uriel, had assigned him what had to be the longest and most grueling project to ever be seen this side of New York. Okay yes, he was more than likely overstating, but twenty pages on the laws of physics? Harsh, really freakin' harsh. He was dreading it. Especially knowing his boyfriend might be waiting for him. It had been two weeks of harassing phone calls and nasty notes left tucked into his textbooks since their fight, and Cass had a gut-deep feeling that something awful was going to happen tonight. The calls and notes had been getting worse and worse._

_Tentatively, he opened his door. A sight rather unlike any other he had ever seen awaited him beyond it. Stepping in, eyes wide, he tried to absorb what he was seeing. There was so much dancing light that his mind jumped to a fire, but he soon realized that the flames were smaller, more delicate. The room was alive with candles. They covered every flat surface, all white and in varying shapes in sizes. It was…God, beautiful was an understatement. He smiled widely, closing the door behind him. It was the most extravagant apology he had ever seen. For all of the fear and inklings of loathing that had built up in him as he listened to each phone call and read every note, his heart melted right down to his feet. It was so unbelievably romantic._

_His boyfriend stood in the middle of the room, clad in a suit and holding a single red rose. He smiled warmly when he saw Castiel's awed expression. "I hardly deserve it, but…one more chance?"_

_And like a fool, Castiel walked right into his arms._

The water was so hot it was nearly scalding, but even it couldn't tear Castiel away from the memory he had allowed to engulf him. He didn't want to relive it, he just wanted it to go away, but it clung on like a leech. A soft, desperate whimper came from his throat as he closed his eyes and covered his face with his hands. What had happened that night he had brought upon himself, and he would forever be ashamed of it. _You're fault…it was all your fault, how could you be so stupid? You had it coming…_ The whispers grew louder and louder until he succumbed to their source, to the person that had implanted that voice over ten years ago.

_The whole thing ended up being a seduction technique, unsurprisingly. But when what Castiel thought to be a perfect night ended in his boyfriend guiding him into the bedroom, kissing him and starting to feel his body through his clothes, he understood what this was all for. And it was beautiful, it really was, and so romantic. But he wasn't ready. He tried to tell his boyfriend that as gently as he could, tried to step back from the stronger man's embrace, but things got way out of hand from there._

"_Take off your clothes," the taller man whispered softly, stroking Castiel's cheeks. Cass tried to ignore the heavy scent of wine on his breath._

"_I, I…thank you for this, but I…I'm not ready. I'm s-sorry…I just can't. It's not you, I just need a little more time…" His voice trailed off until it was a scared whisper, seeing the affection fade from his "loving" boyfriend's eyes. _

"_Let me try this again." Suddenly his voice was harsh, and he was holding Castiel's forearms in a vice grip. "Take. Off. Your. Clothes."_

_Castiel heard the threat for what it was. He struggled out of his boyfriend's grip and ran out of the room in search of the phone mounted in the kitchen, but a hand grabbed his ankle and pulled him down, dragging him back into the room. He kicked upwards and leapt back to his feet when he felt his shoe connect with his boyfriend's jaw. But he didn't get far. He had the phone in hand when an arm clamped around his throat, cutting off his air supply and making him see stars as he was drug backwards. A hand was already deftly unbuttoning his shirt, and he knew as well as he knew his own name that one, he was going to have his virginity taken whether he liked it or not, and two, he was going to pass out._

_And he did. Unconsciousness drug him under, leaving him at his twisted lover's mercy._

Make it stop. God, he just wanted to make it stop. But even as Castiel sunk down against the wall of the shower and into the tub, sobbing softly as he clutched his head, he couldn't fight it. He could only shake with hard chills, the hot water suddenly an attack and not a source of comfort. Everything was pressing down on him, holding him against his will. He couldn't escape. _Make it stop. _Make it stop…please God, make it stop.

_Castiel was sure something terrible had happened. Upon returning to the waking world, his first coherent thought was that he had been raped. He just knew it. The second thing he acknowledged was a sense of gentle comfort, a completeness surrounding him and holding him in the most loving of grasps. It was familiar and soothing. Not even fully aware of his surroundings, he latched on to that sensation and held onto it for dear life. God forbid someone take it away. Whatever it was returned his desperate embrace, whispering into his hair that he was okay, that everything was going to be okay. Then Cass finally placed the feeling and knew exactly whose arms he was in._

"_Jimmy," he sobbed, burying his face in his twin's shoulder._

_The arms around him tightened in a small hug before relaxing again. "It's okay Castiel, I'm here. You're okay. He's been arrested."_

"_How did you find me? Did he…did he rape me? He didn't try to hurt you, did he?" The questions came out between sobs, muffled against Jimmy's suit jacket._

"_I could tell something was wrong. He was trying to strip you when I got there, but he didn't get any further than that. And he tried to hurt me alright, came at me with a damn butcher knife, but I bashed the sorry bastard's head into a window. Last time I saw him he still had the glass embedded in his fucking skull. Then Gabriel got a hold of him…he can do some damage for a little thing. I called the police and they arrested him after I explained what happened. You're okay now…I've got you."_

_Each word set him more and more at ease until finally he relaxed in his brother's arms. Jimmy gently murmured for him to get some sleep, that Gabriel was up front and they were on their way home, and Cass could only nod drowsily. He held on as tightly as he could, wondering if he would ever wake up from this nightmare that had become his life. Ever since he first laid eyes on the charming blond, his life had taken a nosedive into the drain. But he was with the only people in his life he trusted. His family. With Jimmy, with Gabriel. With the only men he would ever be able to trust again. He had opened his heart, and it had been broken and left to bleed on the floor._

_And that was how his boyfriend broke him. His heart, his soul…his life._

Castiel sniveled quietly, the splitting pain in his head and sense of being overwhelmed slacking off like pouring rain reducing itself to a drizzle just before the onslaught caused a driver to run off the road, no longer able to see. The rain was still there, but quieter, allowing him to make sense of his thoughts again. His hands had regained control of the wheel, returning him to pavement that was wet and dangerous, but steady. He reminded himself that it was all over, that his boyfriend could never hurt him again. That he had only been half awake when he rested his head against Crowley's shoulder on the plane. That life could not be so cruel as to confirm his suspicions. Other people wore that particular cologne, didn't they? Not just his ex boyfriend. He had to tell himself that his first love hadn't found a way to reenter his life.

It had been over ten years.

Balthazar Roche was a part of his past.

But was his past coming back to haunt him?


	14. Why're We Up At Three AM On The Phone

**Author's Note:**

**Believe it nor not, I actually have a decent reason for disappearing this time. I was finishing the video based off this fic (got randomly inspired awhile back and finally finished it, link is on my profile) and a little something else that has to do with this story that is mentioned in the description of this video. All I will say is please wish me luck with it. As always you all responded to the last chapter with so much inspiring enthusiasm, and I can't thank you enough. If you want to check out that description you will see just how encouraging your feedback has been ;D **

**Some warnings for this chapter. Depressed!Castiel, meaningless!sex, and some friends with benefits business going on that not all of you are going to be too thrilled with. Alright, that's it.**

* * *

><p>"<em>You're bringing out a side of me that I don't know<em>

_We decided we weren't gonna speak so_

_Why are we up at three a.m. on the phone?"_

_~Heartless by The Fray_

_**He didn't need anyone like he had thought he'd needed Dean. By now the sex wasn't even a form of comfort…it was just mindless physical pleasure fueled by forced detachment and a broken heart. Nothing was ever going to matter like loving Dean had. Unable to even feel bitter, he accepted it. It wasn't like anyone cared about him enough to remind him he was actually worth something. But then again…was he?**_

…

Dejected, Dean trudged inside and flopped down on the couch. He pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers and sighed. Finding Cass was going to be a hell of a lot harder than he thought, clearly. There were so many damn places a photographer and his manager could be, he had no idea where to start. But that didn't mean he was giving up. Hell no, he would go to every corner of the earth if it meant tracking Castiel down. Though he hoped it didn't come to that because his Impala was a gas hog and yes, he was rich, but come on. Fate couldn't be that cruel.

The modern, glossy mantled fireplace wasn't on, but Dean was drawn to staring at it anyways. A piece of that ridiculous, paint splashed crap people called "modern art" was centered above it, the color most prominent a vibrant blue. He stared at it long and hard. A flash of memory flickered in the outer recesses of his brain. Bright blue eyes sparkling with pleasure, knees on either side of his waist, the leather of the Impala's backseat pressing into Dean's back as Castiel rode him without shame nor mercy. Dean shook his head to dispel himself of the memory and pulled a flask of whiskey from his jacket, taking a long swig.

"Someone's having a bad day," drawled an amused, accented voice.

"Bite me, Balthazar."

"Sorry love, I'm spoken for. Shall I take a rain check?"

Dean groaned and dropped his hand, glaring at the fashion designer sitting next to him on the couch. "What do you want?"

"To tell you where Castiel is."

The model damn near fell off the couch. "What? How the hell do you know where he is?"

"I know a guy who knows a guy who knows a-"

"Spit it out dammit."

"Oh alright then. I don't know _any_ guys, I'm just fucking Crowley."

"Dude. Gross. Does he at least pay you?"

Dean had to dodge a well aimed kick to his groin, chuckling at the glare Balthazar fixed on him. "Do you want to know where Castiel is or not?"

"You know I do. So tell me or don't, I'll figure it out one way or the other."

Balthazar swished his wine around in his glass, raised it to his lips, took a sip. He leaned back and propped his feet on the coffee table. Dean tapped his fingers against his leg, knowing the designer was intentionally tormenting him with all the foreplay. Finally, Balthazar said, "Venice."

Dean sighed. The airport was gonna get real fuckin' sick of him this week.

...

Upstairs, his packing was interrupted by his phone ringing. He sighed and flipped it open without looking at the Caller ID. "Hello?"

"D-Dean?" choked a familiar, tear filled voice.

He dropped everything he was doing right then, head snapping up. "Cass?"

"I'm sorry. I know I shouldn't be calling, I just…I…"

"Sssh, sssh, it's okay. What happened?" He fell into step with comforting his photographer as if nothing had happened between them. What he wanted more than anything was to _be_ there, to take Castiel into his arms and just hold him until he knew everything was going to be okay.

Castiel drew in an audibly shaky breath. "I need you to answer me something."

"Anything."

"Had I not wanted to sleep with you at that photo shoot where we first met…would you have made me?"

"God, no. I would never…what could even make you think that, I-"

"Thank you."

Dean blinked, totally lost. "For what?"

When Castiel replied, his voice held a touch of what sounded like melancholy longing. It was still hoarse from crying. "I know we're never going to see each other again…but I needed to hear you say that."

Just as the model started to beg if necessary for Cass to rethink never wanting to see him again, to ask what was going on and why he had suddenly needed to know that Dean wouldn't have forced himself on him, dial tone rung out. Castiel had hung up. For some reason, tears were in Dean's eyes. His once lover's voice had been haunted as if asking something that's answer could break his heart into a thousand pieces. Castiel had sounded _terrified_ of Dean's answer. The conversation was over so quickly yet had an impact that left Dean with a case of staggering emotional whiplash.

_What the hell…?_

* * *

><p>Castiel closed his phone and leaned against the wall. After recovering from his ordeal, he had gotten dressed and told Crowley he wanted a breath of fresh air. His manager, engrossed still in <em>Good Omens <em>had nodded absently and turned a page. Now, his panic having abated, Cass wondered if he had just made a very bad mistake. Part of him was soothed by Dean's words (alright so yes, he knew that no one was just going to come out and say "Well yeah man, I totally would have raped you" but despite all of the lies, something told him to believe the man he had once loved) and the other part was emotionally laid open to the bone from hearing his model's voice again. All of the wounds that had started to heal since that day at the airport were bleeding and raw once more.

In the midst of his world crashing down around him, Dean telling him it was going to be okay still swathed him in comfort no one else could offer. Was it a form of masochism, remaining so dependent on one of the two people that broke your heart so completely in the first place? He didn't have an answer for that, but he still wondered it. Loving Dean was a part of his past, but much to his current dismay, depending on him didn't seem to be. But as long as they remained on opposite ends of the world as they were now, perhaps he could one day sever that tie as well. The dark voice that had haunted his head for so many years reminded him that even if time could heal his wounds, the scars would remain forever.

He sunk down to the ground, back against the wall. Crowley was seeing Balthazar. He was certain of it. Crowley, who he trusted and counted as one of his closest friends. Crowley, who he was alone with in Venice. What if this had been Balthazar's plan all along? Trick Castiel into trusting Crowley so Balthazar could get to him? Had meeting his manager/assistant not been as much of a pleasant accident as he once thought it to be? Paranoia had crawled under his skin and sunk its teeth in, taking every thought in his mind and twisting it until the actions of the people around him were all some sure sign of betrayal. Cold despite the humid late evening air, he wrapped his arms around himself and stared at the buildings around him. The city was comforting to him. Resting his head against the wall, he closed his eyes. Sleep offered him a warm embrace of unawareness, and he stepped into it with gratitude.

...

When he next awoke, it was without the soreness he expected. Actually he was rather comfortable. Blinking, he raised his head. The first thing that came into view was Crowley. Still groggy, he tried to scramble into his own personal bubble, but a hand gently pushed on his chest until his head was once more in Crowley's lap. He tried to make himself relax but found his paranoia from earlier rearing its ugly head. His watch told him it was nearly four in the morning. He couldn't believe he hadn't awoken when Crowley carried him inside or removed his shoes and coat, both of which sat nearby.

"Thank you for bringing me inside," he murmured.

Crowley's hand stroked his hair soothingly, as if sensing his stress. "S'alright love. What were you doing sleeping out there, anyways?"

"I don't know," Cass admitted. Looking around, he realized he was on the couch, Crowley's book sitting on the table in front of them to suggest his manager had been reading while he was asleep.

"Well you should probably try to get some more sleep, we have an interview to get to in a few hours."

"Oh God, the interview," Castiel groaned. "I can't believe I already forgot." He drug himself off the couch and sluggishly crawled into his bed, pulling the blankets snugly around him. Already half asleep, he said, "Thanks again for bringing me in."

"No problem. Now get some rest before I have to kick your ass for blowing the interview tomorrow."

The lamps were switched off, the rustling of fabric sounded for a moment as Crowley got into his own bed, and Castiel burrowed deeper into his pillows before drifting off to sleep.

...

He was awake again in a matter of hours to get ready for the interview. When he came out of the bathroom he wore slacks, a dark blue dress shirt, and an open black blazer. Self conscious as ever, he turned to Crowley. "How do I look?"

"You look…" Crowley's eyes went from his face down the length of his body and back again. "You look like I could eat you alive, darling."

The older man came to stand in front of Castiel, resting his knuckles against the side of the photographer's neck. Cass shivered as Crowley trailed his hand over his shoulder and down his arm. Crowley looked tempted to make good on his word and eat Cass alive as he curled his fingers around the younger man's wrist. He used that grip to pull Castiel closer, his other hand coming up to slowly pull through Castiel's thick hair. Little did he knew how sensitive the photographer was there. Cass leaned forward into Crowley's hand out of pure instinct, eyes closing.

His mind was starting to go a bit blank. Ever since last night his brain had felt scrambled, closing down anything suspicious to protect him from the nerve wracking paranoia he had felt. So he wasn't quite sure how to react to Crowley's sudden seduction. One he had to admit was fairly affective. Unlike with Dean his heart didn't react, but his body certainly did. After losing his virginity his body had become just as prone to arousal as the next person's, and he cursed his naivety for not allowing it to occur to him that Dean may not be the only person in the world that could excite him. Love and affection hardly factored in, but he couldn't deny the prickle of a response he felt encased in Crowley's grip.

"We have an hour before we're supposed to be at the interview," Crowley said softly.

Castiel swallowed. "I'm aware."

"So let me help you. I can make you forget Dean Winchester and anyone else that's ever hurt you. You won't be able to remember your name, let alone theirs."

Damn it. Crowley knew exactly what to say. What Castiel wanted more than anything was to forget Dean and Balthazar, even just for a little while, and his manager seemed very aware of that. Seduction was Crowley's second nature and Cass was easy prey in his state of vulnerability. He didn't want love, he just wanted someone that wouldn't lie to him or play games. Crowley had never lied to him. Never done anything to hurt him. Castiel's mind continued its forced reasoning to keep him from backing away, because he was only fucking human and it wasn't that abnormal for one to find comfort in physical pleasure in the wake of betrayal. So he threw caution to the wind and shut down his worrisome little mind, letting his body do the talking as he pressed forward against Crowley.

"That's right love…let me take care you for awhile."

Knowing he had won, Crowley smirked as he wrapped his hand around the back of Castiel's neck and pulled him into a dominating kiss. He started backing the photographer towards the bed, Castiel sick to his stomach because his heart longed for Dean but his body screamed to keep going. Following his heart in the past had only served to break it, so he mentally decided it could go fuck itself. That damn heart was still sore from the pain he endured in college, not to mention its most recent blow. So he closed himself off from feeling anything at all emotionally as Crowley pushed him down on the bed, sliding his blazer off his shoulders and unbuttoning his shirt with nimble fingers.

Castiel loosened Crowley's tie, threw his jacket aside, and removed his shirt with ease. His detachment prevented him from being nervous in the slightest. The rest of their clothes were shed in a matter of minutes. Castiel let his back fall against the softness of the duvet cover, clenching his jaw as he forced his body to relax. That tiny fragment of his old self, buried under layers of denial, told him this wasn't what he wanted. Reminded him that at one point in time, he had wanted Dean to be his first and his only. _And at one time, I thought he loved me, _he replied. Then it hit him. That dark, cruel, taunting voice that had followed him all of these years had never been his father's. Never been Balthazar's. It was his own. An emotionless, apathetic version of his own. Because the only person that kept allowing him to get hurt was himself.

Convinced of this, he decided that it didn't matter who he let defile his body. He wasn't good enough for Dean, why bother trying to be good enough for anyone else? They would just hurt him. When Crowley pushed into him, he grabbed onto the older man's shoulders out of instinct, not need. He didn't need anyone like he had thought he'd needed Dean. By now the sex wasn't even a form of comfort…it was just mindless physical pleasure fueled by forced detachment and a broken heart. Nothing was ever going to matter like loving Dean had. Unable to even feel bitter, he accepted it. It wasn't like anyone cared about him enough to remind him he was actually worth something. But then again…was he?

"Crowley," he gasped as he felt the man start moving. His nails bit into the back of Crowley's shoulders.

It was heated, desperate, and unemotional. All of the things Castiel had become that he had never wanted to be, yet all of the things he had evolved into anyways.

* * *

><p>Dean <em>finally <em>got off at the airport. Before long the hot, dry air had his tank top clinging to his torso with sweat. For some reason he was intensely nauseated and couldn't place why, it was almost one of those things Sam was always talking about when it had something to do with someone you loved. Whatever. Dean didn't buy into all that lovey-huggy crap. He just wanted to find Cass and make him see that of all the things he had lied about, loving him had never, _ever _been one of them. All he had to do was find one man in a city full of people preparing for a famous annual festival.

Hey, how hard could it be?


	15. I Sit Here On The Streets In Venice

***Sorry it's short and a bit of a filler, trying to balance writing this and working on the book version. More on that latter bit in the next A/N! Oh, and thanks for the reviews Hikarilightz!  
><strong>

"_Everybody wants something that seems too hard to get_

_So I sit here on the streets in Venice_

_Waitin' for the sun to set."_

_~Rock This World by Hilary Duff_

Crowley turned on his side, watching Castiel. The photographer was asleep, turned away to face the wall. He was curled up on himself like he wanted to escape the world, escape _himself. _Crowley decided Cass could get a little rest before having to wake up to get ready for the interview again. And of course this was the only time he could really be close to Castiel without it being a matter of professionalism or, as of very recently, comfort sex. He knew it was nothing more than that. Under the pleasure, there had been a hollow emptiness in Castiel's eyes. But Crowley had always been the one to catch him and he wasn't going to stop being that person now.

Castiel had no idea. Crowley had been in love with him for years and he was completely oblivious. Cass was convinced that if the next best offer came along, Crowley would be gone in a heartbeat. And six years ago that would have been true. Before knowing Castiel, Crowley had been a right heartless bastard. But something about those wide, innocent blue eyes had changed him. First he had become fond of the photographer. Then he had found himself in love with him. It was and had always been unrequited, which was fine with him, or at least it was until the Winchester brat came along. Crowley hated seeing Dean with Castiel, felt a blinding rage every time the model touched Cass. After awhile the jealousy had abated enough for him to accept it and just be glad Castiel was happy, but then Dean broke that poor boy's heart.

That day at the airport, when Castiel walked right into his arms and let Crowley hold him while he cried, Crowley hadn't felt any form of satisfaction that the younger man was finally reliant on him. He had just wished things could have worked out differently. Castiel had been head over heels in love with Dean Winchester and that dick had broken his heart. After Cass had gotten together with Dean, Crowley found himself in a relationship with a sexy fashion designer named Balthazar. His plans for the handsome blond were to have a convenient distraction but he hadn't expected to actually start to care about that flirtatious handful of crazy. Half the time he wondered if they would flirt each other to death.

Balthazar Roche was a tortured man. He had confided in Crowley that back in his college years, he had been an alcoholic and an abusive boyfriend. His greatest regret was what he did to his lover back then. After getting out of jail for a drunken assault, he had gone straight to rehab and cleaned up his act. Part of him had wanted to seek out his ex boyfriend, apologize and beg for a do-over, but he added that he had then realized he had done too much damage to be repaired by a simple "I'm sorry." Head on Crowley's shoulder, he'd said that he only hoped his boyfriend had found a way to move on and heal. Then he had thanked Crowley for giving him the chance no one else had ever done, not as a child and not in a relationship. _That _was when Crowley started caring about Balthazar as more than a fuck buddy. Everyone made mistakes and under those mistakes was a genuinely good person.

When he woke Castiel up, the photographer was disoriented. "Dean?" His voice was small, timid. Hopeful.

"Sorry love, try someone a few years older a couple tons sexier."

Then reality hit Castiel again. Shoulders slightly drooped, he got to his feet, stretched. "Oh. Hello."

Crowley pretended those words didn't hurt.

* * *

><p>Dean attracted quite a bit of attention, walking down the streets of Venice shirtless. It was not negative attention. Many women and a few men made eyes at him as he passed by. He replied with grins, winks, and the infamous flirty gesture of "I'll call you." Venice was…welcoming to say the least. But it would be much better when he figured out where in it Cass was. All he had to go on was that Cass was probably in a close vicinity of the <em>Venice Garde <em>main office, so that was where Dean was. His way of locating his photographer was a little on the old fashioned side. He had printed Castiel's picture from his website and carried it in his hands, flashing it to vendors as he passed by. Many shook their heads. It wasn't for an agonizingly long time that one of them, thank the Heavens above speaking English, said he had seen a man that looked just like that.

Dean stopped dead in his tracks. "Really? Did he mention where he was staying?"

"Yeah. All the people that stop to buy souvenirs fill out a form telling me where I can find them," the tan skinned man replied sarcastically.

"Well who was he with?"

"Some British guy. Black suit, kinda spiky brown hair. Older."

"Crowley. That son of a bitch." He cursed under his breath before nodding to the vendor. "Thanks."

He melted back into the crowd, pulling out his cell phone. It was great having international calling. His fingers moved rapidly on the keys until he reached his contacts, selecting the first one on the list thanks to automatic alphabetizing. He slid into an alley to escape the streets that seethed with tourists anxiously awaiting _Carnevale _to begin soon. Dean could care less. The only thing he was "anxiously awaiting" was for Ash to pick up the damn phone. When the mullet-sporting genius finally answered, Dean asked him what the fuck took so long.

"It was ringin' for like, three rings, man!"

"Two rings too long. Look, I need a favor."

"Don't try askin' nicely or nothin'…just up and leave Lawrence without a word and then you call me up askin' me to work my magic."

Dean pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. "This is important. Please, Ash."

"Dean Winchester uses the P word. Damn, world coming to an end and you need me to Google it or something?"

"Heh, very funny smartass. No, really. If I give you the name of a city in Venice, can you tell me where someone is staying in one of its hotels?"

"Long as they're computerized and ain't one of them folks that try to be all old fashioned for the 'old world experience' and that bullshit."

"Try. Call me back. Thanks Ash." Dean hung up.

He wandered around with no particular destination. Living in New York for years had him used - accustomed, really - to crowded streets and bustling crowds. It was nothing he really liked or hated, it was just that way. Kind of like having a bladder. It's incontinent but you get so used to it that your life would feel terribly out of balance without it. Venice, however, was unlike New York. It wasn't as over innovated and polluted with the stench of technology's far too vast evolution. He could never adapt to somewhere so old-worldly, he loved his phone and his laptop, but it was a far sight nicer than dealing with his housemates' constant hoopla. It was like he was snuggled into a little corner of the world reserved only for the happy or those seeking lost loves like Dean was. Somewhere reserved for sweet memories and good intentions. _God…sweet memories and good intentions? You've been around Cass way too damn long, dude. Strap on a pair for Christ's sake, _Dean thought, shaking his head.

Kidding aside, Venice was beautiful. His love for it reminded him of Cas, of the bone deep sense of being home when he looked at it. So much like what he felt whenever he saw his Castiel. It was knowing that seeing Cas again was nigh that kept him going, that granted him the patience to await Ash's phone call as he walked through Venice. It may take a day. It may take a month or maybe even it a year. It may take the rest of his entire fucking life. But he was going to make Castiel see that he had, did, and would _always_ love him.

* * *

><p>Castiel breezed through the interview. Polite, well spoken, and reputable, he was sure the job was his. That didn't please him as much as it should have. Because when he walked out with this sureness, he wanted to throw his arms around Dean and ask if they could go out for drinks to celebrate. But Dean wasn't there. Just Crowley, who took the news with enthusiasm but was no substitute for who Cas really wanted. He tried to shut down these desires like he had when he slept with Crowley, but they were growing stronger, becoming immune to the tricks he harness and used to keep them at bay. Now all of his emotions were trying to hit him again. Longing for Dean, guilt for sleeping with Crowley even though they weren't together, disgust at himself not only for having sex with a man he didn't love but more prominently for still loving a man that lied to him and betrayed him.<p>

All of this weighed on his mind when he confessed it to the only, outside of family, friend he had left.

"I still love him."

They were walking back to the hotel, and Crowley wasn't surprised by the out of the blue words. Or if he was he didn't show it. He simply nodded, eyes still fixed straight ahead as Castiel's were. "I thought so."

"Do you think I'm an idiot for it?"

"No. You can't help who you love, Castiel. No matter how much they hurt you. They don't necessarily mean to hurt you, but they do. And you still love them…you still know that you always will no matter how many times they break your heart."

Cass turned to watch Crowley. There was something in his friend's eyes he didn't completely understand, a double meaning to his words not accessible to Castiel. He settled for, "I didn't think you knew so much about love."

"You'd be surprised."

Once they were in front of _Hotel Palazzo Abadessa, _Cass turned and wrapped his arms around Crowley. The older man returned the embrace gently. "Thank you for understanding, Crowley. I will probably never see Dean again, but it's nice to know you don't think I'm a fool for still loving him after everything he did. Thanks for that."

"Of course. Anytime, darling."

Castiel tried to convince himself that knowing he would never see Dean again didn't break his heart. His efforts were futile...it still did.

* * *

><p>"Got the name, but man I wouldn't go bargin' in there if I were you. Why don't you wait and not just show up in his personal bubble. He might flip out on ya," Ash reasoned.<p>

Dean sighed, taking a sip of his drink. "I guess you're right…I'll at least give him a day to settle in. What's the name of the hotel?"

"_Hotel Plaza Abadessy _or somethin' like that. I don't know, can't pronounce it. But that's kinda what it sounds like."

Dean laughed. "You're the man, Ash."

He flipped his phone closed and laid it on the table, stared at it for a moment. Castiel was at the _Abadessa, _then. He had seen it. It was nice, classy. Somewhere he could easily see suiting Cass. He folded his elbows on the table and leaned on them, skin warming under the sun where he sat at one of the outdoor tables of a small bistro. The easy part had been finding Cass. The harder part was going to be maintaining the restraint not to show up there out of the blue. And even when Castiel had time to settle in, what was he going to say? It wasn't like he could test the waters to see how Cass was without him knowing it was Dean, there was no way to speak to Castiel without Cass recognizing him.

"Masks, masks! Come get your masks for _Carnevale_!" yelled a street vendor.

Or maybe there was.


	16. Merry Christmas!

**Hey guys! Sorry if you thought this was a new chapter, but this is just me wishing you all a Merry Christmas! I hope yours is fantastic and thanks again to all of you amazing people out there encouraging **_**Lights, Camera, Action. **_**The new chapter will be posted soon I promise. So excited to get back to working on the book version after the holidays are over! Life has been hectic with the Christmas vids I have been making and it will be great to focus on this and this in novel form again. School is starting back January 2****nd**** but I will still have more time. Anyways, sorry for my rambling, I will get back to the point now! Merry Christmas (or whichever holiday you like to celebrate, I hope it's merry, or happy, or something cheerful like that) and a happy New Year! I for one am looking forward to the clean slate of 2012. My upcoming projects are posted on my newly updated profile for those of you interested :-) So much love to all of you, my beloved virtual family.**

**Goodbye, 2011!**


	17. I'm Holding You Closer Than Most

**Author's Note:**

**All done teasing you guys with holiday greetings now :P Warning for very depressed!Castiel in this chapter.**

**First thanks to anonymous reviewer Cassidy, your reviews are so kind and I couldn't be happier that you like the story so much! Thanks a ton :D Next to the anonymous Hikarilightz, thank you again for your feedback! Much appreciated :-) Though I have a favor: define the statement "(and ****not troll. ^^)" for me please? I know on YouTube "trolling" means leaving hate comments, but I'm afraid I don't know the FF meaning. Help please so I know what not to do lol. And thank you so much for your review on "Merry Christmas," subtlelife, I was going to reply but you have PMs disabled. I'm very glad you like the story!**

**Now on to something I mentioned in chapter fifteen's A/N. **_**Lights, Camera, Action **_**is currently being turned into my first novel. It has minor plot changes but is pretty much this with different names lol. More about it is on my website, a link to which can be found on my profile where it says Homepage. I really don't know how to thank all of you because without every single beautifully encouraging review you've given me, I never would have dreamed of turning this into a book. So thank you, thank you, THANK YOU. *gives each and every one of you a bone crushing hug and warm cookies on a silver platter***

**Alright, alright. I'll shut up now and let you guys read. Thanks again!**

**P.S. Links to pictures of the outfits and masks worn by Dean, Cass, and Crowley at _Carnevale _are on my profile :-)**

* * *

><p>"<em>A drop in the ocean, a change in the weather<em>

_I was praying that you and me might end up together_

_It's like wishing for rain as I stand in the desert_

_But I'm holding you closer than most_

'_Cause you are my Heaven."_

_~A Drop In The Ocean by Ron Pope_

"I'm not going to some tourist festival, Crowley."

"Oh come on stick in the mud, it'll be fun. And more importantly a good chance for you to get acquainted with the locals and get your name out."

"Ah. I knew you had an ulterior motive."

"Always, darling." Crowley smiled. "Besides, I thought you loved Venice. _Carnevale _isn't a tourist festival, it's authentic Italian culture."

Castiel sighed, reaching into a box and pulling out his digital picture frame. He placed it on the new desk and took more time than necessary to adjust it, stalling. Finally he decided on the truth no matter how pathetic it sounded. "I miss him. And every time I see this city, all I want is for him to be here with me."

"Then go bloody find him if he means that much to you!" Crowley yelled, slamming down the glass he'd been holding. It cracked but didn't break. "If you're going to keep moping and pining over him, go fuck him and make it better. Until then try to get a grip and move on with your life." Pulling on his suit jacket, he left and slammed the door behind him so hard it rattled the items on the shelves.

Cass stared after him in shock. Crowley was right, it wasn't fair to burden him with his heartache about Dean, but his manager/assistant had never offered to scream like that before. He blinked. _Oh God, here he goes getting his feelings hurt. Suck it up and accept not everyone is going to give a damn if you're sensitive about yelling because of Balthazar, princess. _He agreed with his internal voice. Crowley's words had pierced him right to the bone in their honesty. If Dean could see him now, Castiel doubted he would even want him anymore. Surely not someone as lively as Dean could want to put up with this empty husk of a man.

Castiel stopped thinking of whether or not Dean would want him. He had put his heart on his sleeve for Dean Winchester once and wasn't about to get his heart broken again. Besides, he had made his choice. He had chosen to fly out here to Venice to continue his career instead of being patient, thinking things over, and mending what he had with the only man he had ever truly loved. It wasn't until that thought passed through his mind that he realized how much of a fool he had been. Hurt, he had packed up and moved to Venice, abandoned his home without a second thought, wanting nothing more than to get as far away from Dean as possible. Now, as he unpacked and tried to get used to the small canal side home he would be sharing with Crowley since they were full time patrons (it hadn't come as a surprise when _Venice Garde _called to tell Cass he had the job) of Venice now, he craved the solace of his apartment back in New York. Wanted his family close enough to visit, wanted to talk to Jimmy with something besides a cell phone.

He hated Dean. Hated Dean for seducing him, hated Dean for caring about him. Hated Dean for breaking his heart. But really, mostly he hated Dean because he didn't really hate him at all. Because he was coming to terms with the fact he couldn't hate Dean not only because Cass was pretty sure he was incapable of something as vile as hatred, but because he was still too in love with that godforsaken model that had stolen his heart almost from the very first moment Castiel laid eyes on him in Studio 17. Dean's honey-like voice still echoed in his ears.

"_You must be Castiel."_

But Cass and Dean had both royally fucked up, and there was no going back this time.

* * *

><p>Dean passed over ten vendors before a mask caught his eye that he liked. With <em>Carnevale <em>mere days away he had to find his mask. He had already purchased his outfit for the event but was missing the one thing required to pull off his endeavor. The mask he saw was perfect. Beautiful in its simplicity. Where all the other full facial masks had looked too confining, this one was perfect. It completely surrounded the eyes and covered the mouth, but around the edges it was as if pieces were missing. It was gold but certainly not gaudy. Dean bought it without batting an eyelash at the price, knowing it was expensive even in Italian currency. Finally he was ready. _Carnevale _was in three days and he would be counting every second.

He returned to his hotel. There wasn't much to do besides reply to Sam's text asking how things were going, and after replying to that with a quick _I have a master plan. Muahuahuah, _it reminded him of what he had refused to take into consideration when he flew out to Venice. Sam. His little brother, his Sammy. Dean had never offered to take anything away from his brother for the sake of anyone else including himself. Now he was gambling his baby brother's entire career, entire _life. _All for someone who Dean didn't even know if was going to forgive him. For the first twenty some-odd years of his life, Dean had never loved anyone as much as he loved Sam. Then he met the one person that took that solidity and turned it on its head.

From the day he met Castiel, his life had been a storm, calm only in the center, peaceful only when they were happy together. But even when he was being pelted by the tides and strewn asunder by the winds, it was worth the fight it took to find his way back to the eye of that beautiful storm. Because there he would find blue eyes and the most entrancing smile he had ever seen when he was lucky enough to witness it. He would find his sweet, innocent Castiel waiting with open arms and he would remember that every wound he had bore at the hands of his life's chaos had been in anything but vain. Every second with Cass was worth fighting a hundred wars. A thousand if that was what kept Dean by his photographer's side.

Sam didn't resent Dean for the choice he made. In fact, he had been happy. When he dropped Dean off at the airport he had put his hands on his brother's shoulders and simply said, "Thank you." Dean had been confused until Sam laughed and told him that this perfect life wasn't worth much when Dean being miserable was the price. Then he looked back at the car, where Gabriel sat in the passenger's side, staring out. The sun had lit up every gold highlight in the small man's hair. Sam's eyes had filled with something so tender it could have only been love. Turning back to Dean, he had said that even if he lost every material item he had, no one could take away the one thing that Sam loved more than anything. Dean had nodded silently. It wasn't like he didn't understand the willingness to give up everything for a Novak. If anything, the brothers were brought closer by the mutual knowledge that they had finally found someone besides each other that they loved with their whole hearts.

Now, as Dean stared up at the ceiling of his room, he felt a weight lift off his chest. All this time he had worried about Sam losing his career, because it seemed like modeling was what made his world go round. But now he realized how wrong he had been. There were only two things in the world Sam couldn't bear losing. His brother and Gabriel. The whole world could come crashing down around them, and Dean knew that he and Sam could stand side by side and watch it burn so long as Castiel and Gabriel stood at their sides. Because the world couldn't end if their worlds were standing right next to them.

The desire to see Cass was so much more intense now. It had gone from the trifling, insubstantial longing, heating until it was a white hot burn wrapping around his heart to squeeze him, refusing to let up until he saw Castiel again. A need so fierce it cut right through him down to the core. An irrational part of him wondered if, when he finally saw Cass, he would feel a wave of emotion so staggering it rendered him unable to speak or move. So much like when he had watched Cass walk away at the airport and had been too heartbroken to go after him. This time though, he swore to himself that he would follow through…all bets were off.

_**Three Days Later**_

_Castiel sat on the couch, which still smelt new. He pulled his coat tighter around himself and sniffed. As nice as his new house was, it wasn't home. Neither was Venice. But that didn't really bother him all that much, he was adjusting and he loved working at _Venice Garde. _Slowly but surely he was at least growing fond of the place. But he had lived there for such a short amount of time, how was he supposed to feel about it? Familiarity would come with patience. He just had to hang in there. And it helped that Crowley had apologized for storming out and that they were on good terms again._

_But for some reason he couldn't identify, his heart felt broken. Like something was missing that he would never get back. It wasn't only aching, it was shattered. He felt so alone. Shaking, he pulled his legs against his chest and wrapped his arms around them. He started sobbing violently into his knees. Tears had not taken him this violently in years; a matter of fact, he could not remember having ever felt this destroyed. It was like someone had taken half of him and ripped it off. His face was wet with tears, his hands clenching around each other. _

"_Cass…" started a known voice. Then it changed to worried panic. "Cass? Baby, what's wrong?"_

_Arms circled him protectively the best they could in his balled up stance. He let his legs fall and turned, burying his face in the broad chest beside him. His arms wrapped tightly around the taller man's waist. He continued sobbing, soothed only marginally by the soft strokes of his hair offered to him. The man holding him did not pressure him to explain. He simply let Cass calm down and cry until his tear ducts ran dry, gently easing Castiel's head from his chest to look down at him lovingly. Cass still rested his hands against the man's chest, needing the security of being close to someone._

"_What's wrong?" he asked again._

_Castiel shook his head, sniffed. "I don't know. It's like something's missing…I feel so alone." Then he remembered, and reached up to take the younger man's face in his hands, stroking the defined cheekbones with his thumbs. "Why didn't you go after me? Don't you care about me anymore? I never would have admitted it to myself then, but I just wanted you to hold me and tell me it was going to be okay. All I ever wanted was for you to love me." His heart was laid open to the core, everything vulnerable and on display. He trusted this man completely._

_Suddenly Dean's tender gaze hardened. "Why the hell would I have gone after you? It's not like you gave me a chance to explain or even thought about telling me when you left New York. Who the fuck would care about someone like _you_? You're ugly, you're naïve, and you're pathetic. And you're so goddamn clingy. I only kept you around for the sex."_

"_But I love you…so much…" Castiel shook his head, feeling more tears stream down his face. "You don't mean that."_

"_And here we go with the crying again. For fuck's sake, stop being such a baby."_

_Dean's hand struck his cheek-_

-and he awoke with a gasp.

His body went rigid as he awoke. Or as rigid as it could be with its trembling. He cried hysterically into his pillow, clutching it with shaking hands. It was a dream. It had only been a dream. Dean was not here, Dean did not say those things. But then half consciously Castiel thought to himself, _Truth hurts. You know he was right. Ugly. Naïve. Pathetic. Clingy. Good for nothing but sex. You're only upset because he's right. You slept with Crowley and you don't even care about him as more than a friend. Whore. You worthless, weak little whore…_ And it continued. On and on. His mind tormented him until he believed every word of it. He curled in on himself in the fetal position like he could escape the truth battering him from every angle.

He cried himself back to sleep and when the sun rose, he wanted only to crawl back in bed and hide.

* * *

><p>Spotting Castiel was surprisingly easy in the seething masses of people that made up <em>Carnevale. <em>It was almost like fate that they wound up in the same place during the festival. They both lingered amidst the late evening dancers in the _piazza, _Dean somehow seeing him across the square when a few people in the crowd parted for a split second. There was no missing him. Dean would know every inch of him anywhere. That soft ivory skin, that ruffled dark bedhead, the lips left exposed by his half-facial mask just begging to be kissed. Even the way he stood was familiar. Dean watched him longingly until Cass was once again obscured by the partygoers.

Seeing him was like a punch in the face. It hadn't hit Dean until now how badly he had damaged Castiel until he saw him again. The first thing that had registered upon seeing him was how absolutely beautiful he looked. He could have passed for royalty no problem. His dark hair was contrasted by a pale suit such a light gold it was almost impossible to tell its color. This was paired with a white dress shirt and a tie the color of slightly flushed skin. Dean observed all of this in a flash. But what really struck him was his once lover's mask. Dear lord, it was beautiful. Dean had never seen something so exquisite in his life. It made Castiel look…more than regal, more than stunning. Almost godlike he was so striking in it. Dean wanted to trace its outline, look down into Castiel's piercing blue eyes, admire every inch of his beauty.

The mask was intricate and looked expensive as hell. It was made up of light gold, undercurrents of copper, and accents the color of crystal. They all flowed together but could be separated with a single glance, which was all Dean had caught. Under the lights he could see the amber colored jewels adorning it above the eyes, others placed throughout the swirling, shiny shape that made up the mask. It was so beautiful Dean couldn't put it into words. No, scratch that. It was Castiel that looked so beautiful _in it _that had Dean rendered speechless. And he could tell by the way Cass just stood there observantly that he didn't even realize how absolutely perfect he looked.

Dean started making his way through the crowd. His skull throbbed with the music they danced to, filled with the voices of the people that surrounded him. He straightened his gold vest under his black suit jacket, palms sweating. His heartbeat in his ears was louder than the sounds around him by far. It was like a drumbeat, growing faster and more dramatic as he got closer to where he had seen Castiel. He almost wondered if everyone could hear it, if their bodies were actually swaying to its maddeningly consecutive beat and not the music. His feet slapped the ground and he would have ran if it was possible to while weaving through the throng of mask clad dancers. He still didn't have the faintest clue what he would say to Cass.

Thankfully Castiel hadn't moved from his spot. When Dean reached him, it was everything he could do not to tear their masks off and haul him into a scorching kiss. But he refrained. Instead he just stood there, staring. Inches away from Cass who watched him tentatively, as if Dean would leap out and bite him. Something in the photographer's shoulder set was tense and his hands were clenched at his sides. His gaze was fixed on Dean with something resembling recognition. His eyes traveled up and down Dean's body before returning to his eyes, studying them with scrutiny. Dean thanked God and Heaven above (figuratively) that it was too dark where they were standing for the color of his eyes to be made out.

He swallowed the sudden lump in his throat, making sure to deepen his voice so Cass wouldn't recognize it. "Hi."

"Hello," Castiel greeted, voice cold but professional and civil. "Castiel Novak." He extended his hand.

"Nice to meet you," Dean said, clasping the photographer's hand. He was loathe to release it.

Cass nodded, staring at him. He cleared his throat and Dean let go of his hand. "Do you have a name, sir?"

"Oh, uh, yeah. 'Course I do." Dean laughed awkwardly. "I'm…John. John…Westchester."

"I met a John Winchester once…" Castiel's eyes suddenly became far away like he was reliving it. Then they were filled with such a wrenching sadness that it broke Dean's heart all over again.

"Not a nice guy?" Dean asked innocently.

Cass shrugged. "It wasn't his fault. He was just being honest with me…he was the only one being honest with me. His son, on the other hand…"

"I don't think he meant to hurt you." It was abrupt, and Dean hastened to cover it up. "I mean, misunderstandings happen all the time, right? Maybe that was all it was." Cass didn't much seem to care that this stranger was trying to make sense of his personal life.

"He was _engaged. _I thought he might actually care about me but no, he was engaged to this beautiful, high status woman that I don't even _compare _to. I suppose I can't really blame him. I could never live up to someone like her. You should have seen her…she was gorgeous."

Dean almost cried listening to Cass. He sounded so sure he was inferior to Bela, that he was inferior to anyone, really. His eyes were downcast and his arms were folded over his chest. It was a defensive position if Dean ever saw one. Then, looking closer, he saw the evidence of what had to be one hell of a deep depression Castiel had taken a swan dive into. He was thin…scarily thin. The suit clung to a body that could be blown away by a good gust of wind. His eyes were frighteningly hollow, and his skin was not so much pale as it was gaunt. His hands trembled and he shivered in the humid air. Dean couldn't help but think he wasn't even looking at the Castiel he knew. This was some shell, empty of the person living inside it, all of the good scraped out to make room for the insurmountable hurt that consumed this fragile man. Dean wanted to throw himself off a cliff for being the cause of Castiel's state. He wasn't even himself anymore. Hell, barely looked like he wanted to be alive. Maybe he didn't.

"Not as gorgeous as you," Dean said, voice cracked as he fought tears. "Cass, you're…you are so beautiful."

The blue eyes behind the mask glistened. Castiel blinked to keep the tears from falling, staring up at Dean. He was speechless for several long moments before he said, "He used to call me that…the man who was engaged. And he, he used to call me gorgeous." Tears were slipping out from under the mask, and Cass was trembling. "And he was so good to me. He looked at me like I meant the world to him. When I was with him, he made me feel like I was the most important person on the planet to him. I just don't know why he didn't tell me the truth…" He was nearly hysterical now, voice trailing off as he tried to hold back tears in front of who he thought was a perfect stranger.

"You _do_ mean the world to him." Dean's hand found Castiel's, and he drew that bony hand to his chest and held it there. He wrapped it in both of his own carefully, as if he would crush it.

For a second, it was like Cass knew. His eyes locked with Dean's and he stared into them with a familiarity Dean had longed for since everything that went down in Lawrence. Dean bit his lip, debating on revealing his identity. Then Castiel's eyes went flat and hard. His face bore an expression so emotionless that Dean almost flinched at the transition. He wrenched his hand from Dean's and started backing up. "That's what one of my best friends said in college about my first boyfriend. And he tried to rape me. Don't ever pretend to know me, John…you know nothing about me. And you certainly don't know Dean." Then he disappeared into the crowd, leaving Dean to stare after him in broken shock.

_Oh God, baby…why didn't you just _tell _me? _


	18. You and Me Go Masquerading

***Hikarilightz**** - oh, okay, got it, thanks! And thank you very much for your review, I always look forward to seeing your name in my inbox :-) And this is a bit of a mini chapter, but vital, I assure you. (Update) Okay never mind, I added some. It isn't so dreadfully short now haha. Oh, and thanks for all of the holiday and New Years wishes! It was so nice hearing from you guys (:**

"_You and me go masquerading_

_Lose ourselves in this charading_

_Is this love we're imitating?"_

_~Masquerade by Ashley Tisdale_

Dean's first instinct was to _do something. _To follow, to call out. But he had no idea what to say to that. The only thing he was certain of was that the images of Castiel being held down, screaming as some faceless man tried to take his virginity, threatened to overwhelm him. Nausea coiled in his stomach and wormed into his throat. He pressed his palm to his abdomen, barely keeping himself from throwing up right there. The phone call was no longer confusing in the slightest. Even though there was a strong possibility in Cass' mind, presumably, that Dean had been lying, hearing the words must have served as some sort of comfort. It intensified the sickness permeating Dean's body to think that Castiel had been here in Venice with no one but Crowley to comfort him had thoughts of his almost rapist taken hold. Crowley seemed to have Castiel's best interests at heart, but Dean didn't think he was exactly the love 'n cuddle type.

Neither was Dean, really. Not unless it came to Cass. Despite what recent evidence may propose, he still had a pair of balls down there. They just tended to take a bit of leave whenever it came to his photographer. Early in their relationship he had fought the affections and the ridiculously sappy notions that came to mind when they were around each other, but with time he accepted that it was like fighting _himself. _Castiel would never mock him for his words or actions, would never throw them back in his face and accuse him of being less of a man just because he allowed how deeply he was in love to show. And God knows he would never make Dean feel ashamed for opening his heart to someone and henceforth becoming vulnerable.

_He's not Dad._

The thought shocked Dean. It came from nowhere. Or rather, it had been there the entire time, but left denied and unvoiced. For so many years Dean had been walking on eggshells to maintain the upper hand. He didn't give a fuck what people thought of his brazen attitude, his shameless flirtations, or his sexuality. But sweet demeanors? Tender gestures? Those were things that could be mocked. Things someone could take and use as the upper hand if it came down to an argument. John sneered at traits as such, and since childhood Dean had been building walls against them so he would stand on some sort of equal ground with his father even as that very man's fist swung into his face and sent him sprawling to the floor. At least he would know that there was nothing about him John could mock or tease.

Castiel opened his eyes, as clichéd as that sounded. Made Dean realize it was okay to let someone in. When they were together, it dawned on Dean that love didn't signify a loss of control. It was power. Raw, untouchable power that John could never wrench away. Because to love is one strength. To be loved in return was something else entirely and something John would never understand because he ruined everything he touched. All this time, Dean had been the stronger one. He had the one thing John could never hope to achieve and didn't even realize it until he destroyed it. Castiel had loved him.

Their love was strong. Could withstand an abusive father, could heal wounds left by a rape attempt.

But now Dean had to wonder the question he feared the most: could it survive _this_?

* * *

><p>Cass pushed blindly through the crowd, feeling caged in and claustrophobic. Too many people. He finally made his way into an empty alley and sunk down against the ground, back to the wall. John Westchester. It sounded so…he had looked so…God, it had been like looking at Dean. But that wasn't possible. Dean was in New York modeling. Even if he wasn't, he certainly didn't care enough about Castiel to fly out to Venice to find him. Of that Cass was certain. He didn't blame Dean…just look at the state he would have found Castiel in. After God only knows how much searching, all he would have discovered was this useless creature. Castiel was glad Dean hadn't sought him out on that principal alone even though his heart ached to have his model there with him. He wanted nothing more than for Dean to take him into his arms and just hold him.<p>

There had been something in John's eyes when he told him that his boyfriend in college had tried to rape him. Such pain, sympathy, and agony. It had taken Cass aback but hadn't slowed him down as he melted into the sea of people. He was pulled back into them like a shell swept into the ocean by an early morning tide. Now as he hunkered down against the wall, watching a gondola lazily go down the canal on the other end of the alley, he considered the way his heart had skipped when he looked at John. He was so much like Dean. The voice was deeper, more southern, but that hadn't been what tipped him off. Looking at him was one thing. It was easy enough to dismiss the notion it was Dean. But then the strange man took his hand.

Castiel knew those hands. Soft but calloused in a few places from the years he spent working as a mechanic. Dean's hands had touched, caressed, and gripped him so many times he would know them anywhere. The man's fingernails had been just has short and jagged from being bitten off, too. Once Dean had laughingly mentioned that people at shoots hated him when they needed his fingers in the picture because they had to file the rough edges of his nails. Then he had trailed his index finger down the bare skin of Castiel's bare erection and asked if he minded. Cass had shaken his head, trembling as that finger neared the head of his cock. It teased and stroked him for a long time until it finally scratched the very inside of the slit. Shocking himself by how intensely he reacted, Castiel had come with a sharp cry. Then he had bent his head between Dean's legs and relieved the hardness that had formed when the model watched him slowly unraveling.

He could still feel Dean's hands in his hair, clutching him close as his head moved up and down. His tongue had lapped, kitten like, at the pre-come leaking from the tip. Dean gasped and arched his hips up as Cass sucked his cock all the way into his mouth, the head hitting the back of his throat. Afterwards they laid together, Castiel's head resting on Dean's arm and one of his legs slung over the model's waist. Soon he found moving his leg created a friction that drove Dean mad and he had repeated it until they were both hard and wanting. Cass tried to hold it back but found himself sucked into the memory of that evening, the images wrapping around his mind like a vise.

_They hadn't been home from the Hayden Planetarium long and they had already fucked, Castiel had come again, and Dean had gotten a dizzyingly good blowjob. Now they were hard and ready to go again. Cass watched with a smirk as Dean panted, moving his thigh against the erection pressing against it. Dean finally caved and grabbed Cass by the hips, pulling him onto him so that the photographer straddled him. Castiel wasn't on top of Dean very often if they weren't having sex and didn't entirely know what to do. So he settled for experimenting. He just did what felt good, what soothed the almost painful protrusion currently straining against Dean's stomach. Bracing his hands on Dean's shoulders, he started rocking back and forth. Dean almost shouted when he felt their cocks hit each other._

_Cass squeezed his thighs around the model's waist and started riding him, leaning his forehead against Dean's chest when he felt himself getting close. Dean's arms wrapped around his waist and kept him moving as they moved together in a frenzy. It was Heaven, feeling Dean's bare cock against his own. During sex Dean always wore a condom and while it didn't make it any less pleasurable, Castiel relished the feeling of not having a barrier of latex between them. When they came together it was so intense that nail indentions were left in their skin because they held on to each other throughout it. At the height of his climax, Cass moaned something in his grandfather's native tongue. Dean had asked what language it had been and Cass had replied that it was Russian. But when Dean asked what he said, Castiel shook his head and changed the subject. It had been the heat of the moment and Cass could only feel blessed that it hadn't escaped him in English._

_Ya tebya lyublyu. I love you._

Castiel stared down at his hands. They had contrasted so vividly against Dean's tan shoulders when he braced his hands against them. At least the crying had finally stopped. He couldn't bring himself to shed any more tears. The words, when he had spoken them, hadn't shocked him until after he even realized he'd said them. In the moment it felt natural. But then, laying with Dean, he wondered why they had come across him. He hadn't spoken in Russian since he was thirteen. After his grandfather passed away he abandoned the language. Until that day, he'd thought that he had forgotten Russian where once he had been almost fluent in it. He and Jimmy would occasionally use it as children when they didn't want Anna or Gabriel to know what they were saying. They were the only two that picked up the language. It was beautiful and Cass loved it…he just didn't know it was still inside of him.

Alone, he decided to return home. He had seen Crowley - looking dashing as ever in his silk-lined black suit paired with a black and gold half facial mask that looked like the spread wings of a bat - mingling with some very pretty girls. His manager looked to be enjoying himself and Cass didn't want to bother him. Part of him wanted to return to John and apologize for being so volatile. He had been raised polite and knew how rude it was to just run out on the seemingly well meaning stranger. It wasn't John's fault that he reminded Cass of Dean. So Castiel gathered himself and made his way back into the crowd, searching for the uniquely masked man. It was probably half an hour before he caught a glimpse of him again. Determined not to let John's eerie resemblance to Dean deter him, Castiel started to approach him.

* * *

><p>It all made sense now. His shyness, his fear of abandonment. His reluctance to lose his virginity. Every alarming aspect he had ever detected in Castiel was finally explained. The man was damaged beyond what Dean had imagined possible…the first man Cass had ever loved had not only betrayed his trust but tried to <em>rape <em>him. Take away the thing that as a God fearing Catholic, Cass probably held near and dear. His virtue. Then all those years later, Cass had opened his heart again. To Dean. Who took that trust and walked all over it.

_I'm so sorry, Cass, _Dean thought. He just wished Castiel had talked to him. Dean would have listened, shouldered some of the burden Cass had been carrying since college. Hell, at the very least he would have taken Cass into his arms and just told him _Hush, baby. It's okay. No one's ever going to hurt you again. I'll keep you safe from him, he can't hurt you anymore. _But what good would that have done? All Dean did was break Castiel's heart all over again, rendering those words meaningless had they been spoken. It was a never ending circle of self hatred and guilt. Then it hit Dean. Lord. How fucking stupid _was _he? Cass had almost been raped. He certainly wasn't going to trust Dean again after what he had done.

Pursuing Cass was just going to make it worse on the photographer. Dredge up memories he probably didn't want to revisit, make him relive the pain Dean had put him through. Dean realized at that moment that the best thing he could do was live and let die. If he really wanted to protect Cass, then he needed to stay away. Let Cass heal from the wounds inflicted by the two men he had loved. It ripped Dean apart from his soul outwards, searing every nerve inside his body, tearing his heart in half, but if he wanted to make up for what he had done then letting Castiel start his own life was the only thing he could do to truly better his photographer's life. A world without Dean would be a safer one. No matter how badly it made Dean want to scream at how unfair the world was. He just wanted the chance to love Cass, wanted Cass to love him. But dragging Castiel back into his life was just selfish. So he made his decision, right then and there. Under the lights of Venice, Italy and amidst swarming crowds of dancers.

He was leaving. It was time to let Castiel go, once and for all.

Then a deep voice sounded timidly from behind him. "Mr. Westchester?"

Dean turned and saw Castiel standing right behind him, eyes fixed on his feet. His heart leapt into his throat. "Hey, Cas…tiel," he added hastily.

"Hi. I just wanted to apologize for how I acted. I know you meant well, it's just been…a hard week."

_Damn it, stop making me want to stay. _"Hey, no worries. Everybody has their moments."

"Thank you for understanding. I hope I didn't offend you." Dean shook his head and waved a hand dismissively. Cass nodded and turned like he was going to walk away. Then he stopped, turned back around. "Have we met before?"

"Don't think so." Crap, crap, crap.

"It's just…you remind me so much of someone I know."

Dean chuckled. "I get that a lot. But nah, don't think we've met before tonight."

"Oh." Castiel's voice sounded almost…forlorn? "My apologies…wishful thinking, I suppose. Have a lovely night Mr. Westchester."

He gave a polite nod and left. Dean stared after him, speechless. Wishful thinking? He gaped, sputtered, and tried to move his legs. It was like his feet were glued to the ground. Finally he made them move and followed Castiel, who thankfully hadn't gotten far. He grabbed the photographer's arm with a heart pounding mix of hopefulness and urgency. Castiel offered him a sad smile in greeting. His eyes behind the mask were so sad, so defeated. Like Dean's denial of them knowing each other had crushed him. Along with that sadness was an inkling of anger, like he was frustrated with himself that he had hoped they _did _know each other. Dean couldn't help but laugh out loud. They had been chasing each other around Venice half the night, both thinking it was best to stay away from the other, when really all they wanted was to know the other still wanted them. For fuck's sake this was stupid.

His question was suddenly answered. _Yes._ Yes, their love could survive this. This and so much more.

Dean swallowed. "Actually…I think we do know each other."


	19. Are We Ashes and Wine?

**Author's Note:**

**Sorry for the wait, school is a total bitch and I'm helping a neighbor take care of seven pitbull puppies. Also, I've been working on revising the first few chapters of the novel version of this. *faceplant* And for those of you interested, my main song for this chapter (not just lyrics, listening to it as well) was Ashes and Wine by A Fine Frenzy. So if you wonder about where my inspiration may have came from for this, look it up and have a listen :-)**

**On a brighter note, got the second Johannes Cabal book today! OMFG! Book rec for you guys: _Johannes Cabal: The Necromancer_ by Jonathan L. Howard. MUST READ.**

**Now, some messages to anonymous reviewers. Di, thank you so much! I'm glad you're enjoying the story. Hikarilightz, WOW, thanks! Your review made me so very happy :D And indeed I do love trolling/teasing hehe. Cassidy, thanks so much! I can assure you the worst of the angst is over, but the story isn't quite ready to conclude :-) Himeco1, OMG, thank you! Haha your review rocked, my friend :D**

**Hope everyone will hang in there with me for just a few more chapters!**

* * *

><p>"<em>I'll tear myself away if that is what you need<em>

_There is nothing left to say_

_But…_

_Is there a chance, a fragment of light at the end of the tunnel?_

_A reason to fight?_

_Is there a chance you may change your mind…_

_Or are we ashes and wine?"_

_~Ashes and Wine by A Fine Frenzy_

Shock.

Fear.

Hope.

…_Dean?_

Castiel's thoughts had been reduced to a jumble of words and the one question that rung out like one word within a cave, bouncing off the walls of his mind and returning to him, a disjointed echo of its original self but always the same word. A word of fear, of hope, of love. Dean. Because when he heard that strange man behind him, he spoke not with the deep, southern accent he had moments ago, but with a voice Cass knew and held in the deepest crevices of his heart. He knew that voice as well as he knew his own, just as he knew he eyes that had been peering out at him since the beginning of the night, as he did he hand he had felt against his skin. A taunt hiding in plain sight. Now, as he turned and choked out the only word his mouth could form, it was so tearful and heart-wrenched that it sounded like every ounce of pain he had endured in his life had been poured into it. This one, simple word, a neat summing up of what was going to be his breaking point if this went as badly as it had the potential to.

"Dean?"

The man's hands rose to cup Castiel's face, voice breaking when he said, "Hey, gorgeous."

The dam broke. All of the pain and anger and longing was poured into one long sob as Castiel doubled over, ribs hurting with how hard his tears came. It was like they couldn't flow fast enough, like they threatened to consume him so fully that they would never stop. He sobbed loudly and unreservedly, and finally, he just _let go. _Didn't tell himself he was weak and pathetic for loving Dean, didn't worry about what he was doing to himself with all of the hurt he kept suppressing. He crawled inside the loneliness and wrapped it around himself like a shield. It pressed down on him from all sides, on the verge of pulling him so far into it that he would be beyond repair and closed off forever from whatever happiness he may have felt at the sound of Dean's voice. It was the climax of the building feelings that had been festering since he was introduced to Dean's fiancé. No, before that. Even before he was almost raped in college. It was the one thing he had been since his family shunned him for being gay, and it was what he would always be. _Alone._

Then, it happened. He was barely even aware of it until he felt the solidity of strong arms wrapping around him, a warm chest under his cheek. Dean was…holding him. And with a suddenness that shocked them both, the tears started to dry. It was surreal to Cass. He felt like he was watching from afar, seeing his arms come up to wrap tightly around Dean's neck. His entire body went lax. _Finally. _Of all the thoughts that had crossed his mind in the past week, this one had been the strongest. The need for Dean to just hold him and tell him it was okay, which was exactly what the model was doing, sweet nothings whispered into Castiel's hair. And unlike in his dream, Dean didn't let him go. Cass found himself saying a soft plea, one so open that he felt like he as flaying his skin open and leaving his heart victim if Dean chose to reach inside and rip it out. But he said it anyways, because he had to.

"Don't let me go."

"I'm _never _letting you go," Dean said into his ear, hand rubbing his photographer's back. "Not again…not ever again, Cass."

Still encased in Dean's arms, Castiel leaned back slightly. With shaking hands he removed Dean's mask. Dean, one arm still securely around the smaller man's waist, pulled the intricate mask from Castiel's face. They stared at each other. Dean caressed the smooth line of Castiel's cheekbone with the back of his hand, knuckles gently coming to rest under his jaw. Their eyes locked. Castiel closed his eyes without prompting. He stood there, completely still, eyes closed. Dean's for the taking. Like he would always be, like he had been since they first met in Studio 17. Even when he hated Dean, its strength would be rivaled only by how much he loved this impossible, godforsaken model. It was frustrating but something he accepted as he felt Dean's lips touch his.

Then, the world faded away.

* * *

><p>Castiel didn't know how they got back to Dean's room. He didn't care. All he knew was he heard the door close behind them, felt the press of lips to his own again, this time with an underlying urgency. A hunger he was grateful he hadn't been alone in since the last time they touched each other. Every time Dean's hand came in contact with his skin, it was like someone touched a match to a raw nerve. Not long enough to hurt or leave a mark, just for the brief second it took to feel the burn. The room was completely dark, and even though he could only make out a muddled outline of Dean in the shadows, he didn't need sight to relish the familiarity of the fingers stroking his neck, of the tongue licking his mouth open. The only sound in the room was their harsh breathing and quiet moans.<p>

When they parted briefly for air, Cass whispered, "Make love to me, Dean."

Dean nodded. Again, they kissed, this time Dean unbuttoning Castiel's suit jacket and easing it down his arms. In turn, Cass undid the front of Dean's gold vest and slid it, along with Dean's jacket, off and onto the floor. Dean wrapped his fingers around Castiel's tie and used it to pull him closer, deepening their kiss. Castiel removed Dean's shirt and ran his hands up and down the broad chest left bare, letting his tongue tease one nipple until it hardened. Dean groaned softly and wound his fingers through Cass' hair, holding him to his chest. Castiel tilted his head up for another kiss that was given to him without hesitation. His tie was loosened and tossed aside. Dean leaned his head down and kissed the exposed skin of Castiel's neck, backing him up until the photographer's knees hit the edge of the bed. In this process he had divested Cass of his shirt. Somehow, their fingers moved gracefully in the darkness, locating the buttons and zippers of the other's clothing and pulling them free.

Dean slid Cass' pants and underwear down, Castiel gasping as it was pulled over his sensitive erection. His bare back met the comforter as Dean laid him out, his head against the pillows. He shifted at the scrutiny of Dean's eyes on him. The younger man stared at him, Castiel's naked body illuminated by the moonlight streaming in from the window. Cass gradually let the nervousness drain out of him, sprawling out and closing his eyes before Dean. He spread his legs open. Dean watched him with an expression as loving as it was ravenous, hastening to get out of the rest of his clothes. He was slow, though, as he got on to the bed beside Castiel. Their eyes did not leave each other. Gaze straying down to Dean's parted lips, Cass leaned forward and kissed the model passionately, his tongue entering the heat of Dean's mouth.

His groin tightened as Dean positioned himself between his legs, their cocks pressing together. They parted from their kiss with simultaneous moans, hips moving together. Castiel arched his hips up and rocked against the hard friction. Dean gave a smooth thrust downwards, Cass jerking as he felt something coiling in his stomach. His hands found Dean's back and palmed the tightly muscled expanse. An unbearable heat was growing between his legs, slowly creeping up his spine to overwhelm his body. Dean's thrusts were, while never becoming rough, starting to lose their rhythm. He braced his hands on either side of Castiel's heads, features twisted as he neared climax.

Cass stopped them with a hand to Dean's chest, his voice a low gasp. "Dean…not yet. Please, I…I need you inside me."

Dean didn't argue. He slid his fingers into Castiel's mouth and groaned as Cass sucked them until they were slick with his saliva. Castiel didn't even tense up when he felt one probing around his entrance, forcing his internal muscles to relax. Dean slid it in and, at Castiel's murmured insistence, added a second. Then a third. Cass mewed and wriggled around them, his body aching for release but needing more than anything to have Dean filling him, stretching him until his body was so full he lost control and came in his model's arms. The enticement of the image gave him the willpower to refrain from coming as Dean's fingers slid in and out of him rhythmically.

"I'm ready," he panted.

"You sure?"

Castiel clawed at his back desperately. "Yes. _Please, _Dean. I need this."

Large, slightly dry hands framed his face. Dean kissed him so lightly it was little more than a brush against his lips. One hand left his face to reach into the nightstand, and in the low lighting Cass could see the square shape of a condom packet. But when Dean ripped it open, Castiel reached out and stopped him. He curled his fingers around those of the model and inhaled air into his lungs. Dean looked down at him. If the abrupt movement hadn't surprised him, then Castiel's next words did, without a doubt. But he could tell by the limitless trust shining in those azure blues that whatever he said, Cass would believe him. So much like the phone call earlier in the week that had shaken them both down to their cores.

"Are you clean?"

"Yeah. I was tested six months ago and haven't had sex without a condom since."

There was a change so small it was almost unnoticeable, but Dean knew his photographer too well not to. Cass was amazed to find how confident he was as he pulled the condom from Dean's fingers. When seeing Dean aroused, he had taken sexual initiative without hesitating. This was not the same, or at least it didn't feel it. Even the night he rode Dean into the living room floor in complete control of the situation, that hadn't been like this. This was a matter of trust he had never shown anyone in his life. He was taking a step he had never thought he would risk taking, but how was that any different from the rest of their relationship and the chances he had taken on it?

Staring into Dean's eyes, he was completely sure. He didn't doubt himself for a second as he took the condom and threw it aside. When he spoke, his voice was soft but strong. Unwavering. "I want you inside me raw…I want to feel you come in me."

"Oh God…oh _fuck, _Cass…" Dean shuddered so hard his body shook from head to toe.

For a moment the photographer was surprised until he realized that his words had shocked and aroused Dean that strongly. He leaned up and kissed Dean's temple before laying down again. He stretched his arms out above him, tilted his head back, and closed his eyes. His legs were still open. Words in the intimate silence seemed too clumsy, too forced for the depth of what he was trying to show Dean. So he hoped Dean read the display of complete trust being offered to him, and under it a plea not spoken or implied but, Castiel hoped, understood. _I'm giving you my whole heart, Dean. Please don't use it to hurt me again._ And when Dean leant his forehead down to Castiel's, he knew there was nothing to fear.

Dean entered Cass so slowly they should have been on the verge of combustion, but somehow time just melted away as if it did not exist. All that remained was sensation, trust, and as palpably at the slide of their bodies moving together, _love. _Castiel's thighs were on either side of Dean's waist, their grip becoming tighter the further Dean pushed inside of him. He reached up and wrapped his arms around Dean's neck. Their lips met halfway, a strong hand cradling the back of Castiel's head. They breathed out moans as Dean sunk fully into him. Castiel could form nothing more solid than pitchy cries, chest heaving as he tried to regain control of himself. How it felt, Dean inside of him bare with no barrier of latex to separate them, it made him want to let go. But he wasn't ready to part with it yet.

Cass tucked his face into the slope between Dean's neck and shoulder, fingers sliding through the soft hair at the nape of his lover's neck. One of Dean's hands wandered down his body, caressing every line and curve as he started moving his hips. Castiel gasped as he felt the exposed skin of the younger man's hardness sliding in and out of him. The hand that had been straying down his abdomen stopped at the bottom of his stomach, Dean's fingers going up his flushed length. When they found a nerve at the head, Castiel's hips jerked at the unexpected jolt of pleasure. They moved together harmoniously, each touch, every movement of Dean's hips taking them closer to the edge.

Gentle strokes to Castiel's hair told him that Dean was there, light pressure to his sensitive cock said they didn't have to go any faster than he wanted. He yelled out when Dean found his prostate, and he used his grip on Dean's waist to keep him in that position. Dean settled into an angle that had him hitting it every time. Castiel pressed his lips to Dean's neck before returning his head to it, hair brushing the model's jaw. Their unanimous movements started falling out of synch as the building fire deep within them crept closer and closer to the point that would be unable to hold back any longer. He knew when his toes tensed and curled that he was done for.

"_Dean,_" he cried out. As he came, it was so powerful his sentence was lost into stuttering of, "Dean, I…I…"

His climax reached its peak, and he felt the hot stream of come deep in his body. Dean held him as they shook their way through a shared ending so strong Cass had to wonder if he would be able to get down from such a staggering height. When it finally did become bearable and then finally abated into nothing, he collapsed lifelessly against the bed. Barely even feeling it when Dean disengaged, he extended his arms with a pleading look. His eyes must have said _Hold me, _because Dean smiled and did just that. He settled beside Castiel and pulled him into a loving embrace. Cass draped one arm over the model's waist and pillowed his head on Dean's shoulder, chest still heaving. He smiled when he felt Dean's hand come to rest over his heart. His pulse gradually fell back into a steady rhythm.

Time was still irrelevant. They could have laid like that for hours or minutes, neither tried to keep track. Castiel absently traced the defined lines of Dean's abdomen, coherency returning in unbalanced spurts. His heart felt lifted but also sore and raw, because Dean may not have broken it again, but that didn't mean making himself that vulnerable to someone hadn't scared him. But Dean's fingers stroking his spine acted as more of a tonic than the model probably realized. Castiel accepted that it was time for them to face what had happened in Lawrence. He felt like words would shatter the entire moment and he would wake up alone again, haunted by nightmares, but he had to ask the one question that had been hovering on the outskirts of his mind for so long now. It was a tiny whisper not matching the self assurance he had felt when telling Dean what he wanted. Really, it just sounded scared.

"_Why_?"

...

Dean swallowed. He'd known it was going to come to this. But god _damn _he hadn't expected it to hurt so much. His hand stilled on his photographer's back, feeling wetness start to trickle down his shoulder. It pained him so badly to feel Castiel's tears that he wondered if they would burn his skin and scar it, making him relive the smothering guilt he was feeling all over again every time he looked at them. He knew this had to happen though, before they could move on and get past it. They never would if they didn't own up to it. _You mean if _you _don't own up to it, asshole? He didn't do this, _he reminded himself. He exhaled deeply and looked down, tilting Castiel's chin up and making himself meet those teary, blue eyes.

"I went to Lawrence to break it off," he offered meekly.

"Why didn't you tell me about her in the first place?"

"I thought…I thought I could make things work. I never wanted to be engaged to Bela, I don't love her. But without her, my brother's got no career. So I toughed it out. Put up with our little deal that we could fuck around, but don't get attached. I guess I learned to live with it even if it wasn't my cup of tea. It wasn't that hard going through guys like Kleenexes and moving on the next day. Then one day, I got up and went to work. It was just another day. I let the crew poke and pull at me until I heard the photographer was there, then I used it as an excuse to get up and go introduce myself."

Cass looked like he knew where the rest of that was going, but he still asked, "And?"

"And then this man walked in. He was…damn, he was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen in my life. And I've seen a _lot _of people. Then he introduced himself." Dean wiped a tear from Cass' cheek with the pad of his thumb. "Cass, I took one look at you and I knew something was different. It was so much more than wanting to fuck you. Well, that too, but have you looked in a mirror? Who wouldn't want to fuck you. Anyways. After we first had sex, I was telling myself that I had to let you go. I may go through one night stands, but I don't want anybody getting hurt. But when I was about to get up and leave, like I always do, you put your head against my chest. Guess it wasn't anything all that out of the ordinary, but when I looked down I knew that I couldn't let you go like the rest. You looked so content, but so vulnerable. And so, _so _gorgeous. I didn't want to let go of you. And that's how it began." Dean tried to chuckle at the dramatic comment, but it sounded lifeless.

Castiel's eyes were dry by this point. "Why me? Out of all the people, why did you want me?" he asked in disbelief. "You could do so much better…just look at Bela. She's beautiful, and sophisticated, and-"

"Because I love _you._"

Silence fell. Cass stared at him, Dean mentally smacked himself in the forehead. _Way to go, sport. Start out trying to explain yourself and end up confessing love for him. Well, you always did have a short attention span. _But it had to be said. He'd needed to say it since long before now, and one way or the other Cass needed to hear it. Even if he rejected Dean, even if he never wanted to see Dean again and just say they parted on "good terms," at least he knew the truth. All of it, front to back. Having all of it out in the open made Dean feel ten tons lighter. The expression on Castiel's face was unreadable as the words crawled into his mind and wormed their way in, eventually registering as the truth. Dean held his breath, watching the photographer the best he could in the pale moonlight.

Castiel's face broke out into the brightest smile Dean had ever seen in his life.

Then, he spoke the words Dean hadn't dared to let himself hope for.

"I love you too."


	20. We Found Love In a Hopeless Place

**Author's Note:**

**Okay, so I have some pretty huge thank yous to give out! For starters, 300 REVIEWS! OMFG I love you people, seriously, you all have no idea how much! And also, your response last chapter? Holy hell guys! It was phenomenal, thank you so, SO MUCH! It made my lifetime :D Now for my thanks to all of my lovely anonymous reviews. Cassidy, haha I love you for your all caps review! Your enthusiasm is so encouraging, thank you times a million for your kind words and support! Hikarilightz, thanks very much! My A/Ns tend to be too long but I'm glad you enjoy them hehe. And thank you for your words on the chapter, they make me so very, very happy XD AND HIMECO1! OMFG! THE PICTURE…THE PICTURE….ASJAIHGCISBEMVGNGF. IT'S BEAUTY-FULLLLLLL! *takes deep breaths* Dear. God. I LOVE YOU WOMAN. It is so, SO gorgeous and realistic! You have no idea how much it means to me that you created that, I will use it as a muse when writing **_**Carnevale **_**in the novel version as well as more scenes of it here in LCA. I cannot thank you enough my dear! It's incredible! For those of you confused by this, just check my profile for an absolutely stunning piece of art of Castiel in his outfit from **_**Carnevale. **_**It is so absolutely breathtaking. Thank you again Himeco, words cannot express how grateful I am!**

**Some epic news. This story now has an editor, the lovely Micala AKA Dublin O'Malley! Love working with you, my friend :D Thanks so much for your help! **

**Now some notes on the actual chapter for a change. An Author's Note with real notes…wow. What a flipping theory. Okay first, my main inspirations for the fight scene in this chapter were "Love The Way You Lie" by Eminem (and yes, by Rihanna, but his parts are what inspired me) and "Sing For The Moment" by Aerosmith. As for the last bit of angst, I listened to "I'm With You" by Avril Lavigne. And the song I chose for lyrics just has this entire fic written all over it IMO. All excellent songs I would strongly recommend listening to, if not for the sake of the chapter then just to hear some very kickass music. Oh, and my editor's song of choice for this chapter is "The Trial" by Pink Floyd, have a listen!**

**And for those of you possibly ready to throw in the towel on the major drama of Castiel's past - which I PRAY hasn't turned him into a Gary Sue character, if it has please let me know so I can change it in my book - is all coming to a head and the rest of the fic will be smooth sailing from here.**

**Alrighty, that's all folks! So sorry for the longest A/N yet (nearly a page long! WTF), I always end up having so much to say. Here you have chapter twenty, I'm thinking maybe one or two more after this (: *Crowley's-ego-sized hugs to you all***

**P.S. Most of that A/N was written before the chapter was done, but I just finished it and even though it REALLY feels like an ending, it isn't. I have four words that I hope might keep you guys reading to the end: Castiel's Revenge On Bela. And two more. Balthazar's Amends.**

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><p><em>"It's the way I'm feeling I just can't deny<em>

_But I've gotta let it go_

_We found love in a hopeless place_

_We found love in a hopeless place_

_We found love in a hopeless place..."_

_~We Found Love by Rihanna_

"Wakey wakey, _darling._"

If ice had a voice, it would be several degrees warmer than that of the one that awoke Castiel. Would probably skid away in fear of the hissed words into the photographer's ear. Cass did, instinctively gripping Dean tighter before it even registered who was in the room with them. Their sleep had been fitful in the best of ways. After falling asleep, they had awoken again not too long later aroused for reasons unknown to either of them. They made love to the sounds of _Carnevale _winding down below. With few hours of sleep, Castiel was vaguely disoriented but aware enough to hear the frosty resentment freezing each word spoken until the ice cracked and fell around them in broken shards. He flinched as if one of those shards had stabbed him right in the gut. His fingers dug into Dean's shoulder as he tried to convince his eyes to open and connect with the command in his brain for them to.

Then it clicked. With a sharp intake of breath, he sat up and pulled the sheet around himself from where it had been bunched loosely around his waist and covering very little. He swallowed but found his mouth void of saliva to coat his dry throat. It resulted in his voice cracking when he said, "Crowley."

"Give the lad a cigar. I see you and Dean have come to quite the understanding, then." His eyes, if possible, looked more black than brown.

"Please let me explain-"

"You don't have to explain anything to him, Cass."

The sound of Dean's voice wrapped around Castiel's nerves like an embrace and knitted them back together from the frayed state they had been in since Crowley's wake up call. For someone wearing nothing but a sheet around his waist, the glare he was boring into Crowley was reasonably intimidating. It was met with a flippant sneer. Perhaps not as flippant as Crowley would like, though. Under the flatness in his voice was a deep hurt, like Cass taking Dean back had personally affronted him somehow. He looked nothing like the overprotective friend worried about Castiel getting involved with the shady ex again. If it didn't sound so ludicrous Cass would have labeled him as a scorned lover. The biting remarks, the hateful glance he flicked in Dean's direction, the folding of his arms, it all suggested he was _jealous _of Dean. But Castiel knew better than that.

"Get out of here, jackass," Dean snapped. "This has nothing to do with you."

Crowley turned a slow gaze to Dean. His lip quirked up at the side. He looked smug and Castiel couldn't figure out why. Not until he thought for a moment. Then he realized the one piece of leverage Crowley held over him, and that his friend - if he could even still be called that by the end of the day - was about to use it to its full advantage. Castiel's heart sunk down to his stomach. Dean was watching Crowley's change of expression, confused, and Cass was already turning to his lover, ready to explain when he heard Crowley say the words he dreaded the most. He closed his eyes and prayed that when he reopened them, he would find that his ears had been playing tricks on him.

"Funny, that's not what Cassy here said when I was fucking the life out of him. But oh wait, you weren't here for that, were you?"

Castiel turned to Dean. One observation of the stricken look he found there confirmed that no, he had heard that correctly. Crowley had just voiced what Cass never wanted Dean to know. It had been a moment of weakness, buried deep under layers of denial in Castiel's mind, only to be wrenched out and flung into the open. A hand was placed between his shoulder blades, a scared voice following shortly after, asking the inevitable question.

"Is this true, Cass?"

The photographer nodded shamefacedly. Slowly, like the limb was reluctant, the hand slid from his back. When he turned around he saw the hurt shining in Dean's eyes. He hung his head, watching from behind a lock of unruly hair as the model got up and redressed. Crowley was watching with calm satisfaction. As Dean walked past the bed, Cass grabbed his hand to stop him. They stared at each other from across what felt like an abyss a thousand miles wide. Throat tight, Cass rubbed his thumb across the top of Dean's hand. This time no tears came. The time for them had passed, the darkness he'd wallowed in having faded into a bright joy the night prior, but now a cloud shrouded its luminosity.

"Please stay, we can talk about it," he requested.

Dean squeezed Castiel's hand but released it, backing towards the door. "I'm sorry, Cass…I need a minute with this."

When the door closed behind him, Castiel dressed with an eerie calm. Under his condescending smirk, Crowley looked slightly regretful at what he'd done. Not much though. Certainly not enough to sway Castiel's anger, which was stronger than a tidal wave and more destructive than a tornado. Once he was dressed he turned to Crowley with a clenched jaw and a stare so full of fire it could have sent Crowley up in flames had it been fixed on him long enough. Cass wished that were possible just so he could hear the bastard scream. He cracked his knuckles before balling his fists at his sides. Was he hurt? Maybe a little. He had trusted Crowley. But what he felt more strongly than any other emotion was anger. Why the _hell _couldn't he be happy with something to stand in the way? He had put up with a lot from his manager/assistant in the past few years but now Crowley had crossed a line.

Who made a grave mistake when he glanced at the closed door and whistled, saying, "Well, someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning."

It was a blur of motion. One second Castiel was raising his fist, the next Crowley was sprawled on the floor clutching his bloodied nose. The force of Castiel's fist connecting with it had no doubt broken it. He didn't even have a chance to recover before Cass was hauling him to his feet and pinning him to the wall with a strength no one knew was in that small body. His rage fueled an anger so passionate his mind was clear of anything but how to hurt Crowley as much as he possibly could without facing charges. His hands snapped up to circle around the older man's throat when he tried to speak, thumb digging into the windpipe. He watched Crowley gasp and choke with the same satisfaction Crowley had as he saw Dean slam the door closed. The memory of the sound that door made as it shut made Castiel's grip tighten dangerously.

Cass was too far gone to pay a tiny of sliver of mind to the fear in Crowley's eyes, the stark whiteness of his knuckles as they stood out against his skin. He finally threw the larger man into a nearby dresser, screaming, "You son of a _bitch_!" in a voice so hateful it didn't resemble his own in the slighest. The sound of it didn't even alarm him.

Crowley collided forcefully with a mirror. It cracked but didn't shatter, thankfully for him. When he turned around to face Castiel, playtime was over. It was _on. _He threw Cass down to the floor and straddled him, pinning the photographer's wrists above his head. Castiel retaliated by wriggling his slim wrists from Crowley's grasp and backhanding him so hard that Crowley was thrown into the footboard. In the moment in took Crowley to stumble back to his feet, Castiel had dropped into a fighting stance with both hands out in front of him, ready to hit his former manager/assistant as soon as he was in range. He looked nothing like a scared animal backed into a corner, ready to make a clumsy strike to defend itself…not anymore. The prey had finally taken on the life of the predator.

"Had enough yet?" he snarled.

Crowley spat out a mouthful of blood. "Never."

Cass turned to reach for something to strike the man with heavier than his fist. Behind him, there was a sound of splintering wood. When he looked up to the oval mirror beside the door, he saw that Crowley had beaten him to the idea of seeking something to clobber the other with. In the older man's hands was one of the bed posts, a very heavy piece of genuine mahogany with a harshly broken end. Before he could blink, Castiel was held against the door by the far larger man, Crowley keeping him there by an arm to his throat and holding his newfound weapon up with his free hand. His entire body was flush along the length of Cass's and too strong to let Castiel slide a leg free so he could thrust his knee where the sun doesn't shine.

_Balthazar, Crowley…well, on the bright side, if I live for Dean to hit me, at least I'll be used to it by then, _Castiel mused. He stared into Crowley's narrowed eyes without so much as blanching. When he angled his head slightly to see the splintered end of the post only two inches at most from his face, he asked, "Well? What are you waiting for?"

Crowley looked between the photographer and the makeshift weapon. He ground his teeth together in a noise worse than nails on a chalkboard. After a long, drawn out moment, he released both the jaggedly torn wood as well as Castiel. They stood over a yard apart now. He sounded angry with his own weakness when he said, "I never could. It'd make me feel a hell of a lot better, but goddammit love; I couldn't hurt you if I wanted to."

Just like that, the fight drained out of Cass. He slumped back against the door and drew in a shaky breath. Crowley turned away and disappeared into the bathroom, coming back in a few seconds later with a wad of toilet paper pressed to his bleeding nose. Castiel was surprised to find that he didn't regret what had just conspired. By nature, he wasn't a violent person, but Crowley had told Dean what happened between him and Cass out of sheer spite. It had felt good to let go of his frustrations for once and it not involve crying for a change. He didn't hate Crowley, but that didn't mean he would forgive him. Dean had a right to know, but that didn't justify how Crowley had dumped it on him. Cass couldn't find it in himself to feel remorse towards how he had reacted.

Without a word he turned, twisted the knob, and walked out of the room.

* * *

><p>Dean was leaning against the wall outside. Castiel leaned against it at his side, watched the city. He finally turned to take in the model's profile, Dean's green eyes unreadable. His voice sounded scared but not small as he asked, "Do you hate me?"<p>

"How could anyone hate you?" Dean countered, the sentence punctuated with a laugh that was far from happy. "I'm not mad, Cass. I abandoned you, it's not fair to think…"

"Think what?"

"I guess I just had this stupid idea that I'd, you know, and that I might be the only person you ever…" He coughed none too subtly to cover the catch in his voice. Under the early Venetian sunlight, his eyes were wet.

"You are, Dean."

"How the hell do you figure that?" he replied.

"Because. What happened with Crowley was meaningless. He may have fucked me, but Dean, you're the only person that's ever made love to me."

"As of last night."

Cass shook his head, smiled. "No. From the very first time in the dressing room of the studio to all of the other times you were inside of me. To me, we were making love every time."

Dean's eyes slid over to meet Castiel's. He shifted until he stood in front of his photographer. Cass bit his lip nervously. Dean looked so heartbroken to have not been Castiel's only. To any other two people in the world, that want would seem as unlikely as Donald Trump on food stamps, but Cass was so different. He had let over three decades of his life pass him by before losing his virginity. Then, after all that waiting, he not only lost it to Dean but soon after gave himself to a man he had absolutely no romantic feelings for. He could understand why it hurt Dean to know he had shared that level of intimacy with Crowley regardless of how little emotion had taken part. A prickle of his old timidity rose up and prodded at his heart, reminded him that it had been a stupid mistake and Dean had every right to do with Cass as he saw fit. A rule engrained into his head by a heartless drunk that beat Castiel down until he viewed himself as nothing more than a scrap of meat meant to obey the orders of whatever man it was his duty to pleasure.

Dean raised his hand. Castiel flinched back and closed his eyes, palms flat against the wall as he turned his head. Waiting for the strike. He cringed back, dreading the pain. An image flashed behind his eyes of Balthazar's hand lifting, moving in a blur as his palm struck Castiel's cheek so hard the young man's head snapped to the side with an audible crack. Cass waited. Dean was the only man he had ever known outside of family that hadn't laid a hand on him, time to get it over with. It was bound to happen. So he kept against the wall and didn't dare to move at the risk of upsetting Dean. He knew his fear had to show in his submissive stance.

"Oh God…" Dean whispered in horror. Castiel didn't understand why until hands very gently lifted his own from the wall and pulled them to a broad chest. When he cracked a tentative eye open, Dean shook his head and blinked as a tear escaped and ran down his cheek. "Cass, no…oh no, Sweetheart, not ever…"

Cass opened both eyes. He looked down at his hands against Dean's chest, up into his model's eyes. There was no hate there, no ill intent. Only a sympathy and pain so strong even tears couldn't embody it, for they had dried in the futile attempt. He was completely still for a long, long time. Something in his mind was trying to break apart. A belief so solid it felt like rock, the belief he deserved to be hit, that it was okay to hurt him if he did something wrong. What shocked him right down to his core was when he felt it dissipate, drifting away. Not to the back of his mind or under a heap of repression. Just _away. _Out of his mind for good. Staring at the bitten edges of Dean's nails, he realized with a jolt that no, there wasn't a person in the world that deserved to be abused. No matter what they did, that didn't make it okay to make them afraid or make them think they were worthless. No one should have to feel like that. For all of these years, _he _hadn't deserved to feel like that. In college, he had never been in the wrong. Balthazar had. Every time he woken up with a bruised face, it hadn't been in his fault. _Never._

"Dean," he said quietly. "Will you tell me again?"

"Tell you what, Cass?" Dean drew his lover a bit closer, shoulders relaxing a bit in relief when Castiel didn't shy away.

"Tell me you love me?"

Dean smiled, laying a kiss to Castiel's forehead. He then kissed the photographer's temple, proceeding to press one to his cheekbone. Then the soft skin right beside his nose. And finally, he kissed Castiel on the lips. Against them, he said, "Castiel Novak, I love you more than I can ever say. More than life, more than anything else in the whole world. I love you so much, gorgeous. And I want to be with you for the rest of my life."

His words sealed it. Castiel let go of every inkling of fear and self-doubt he had ever hung on to. He stepped forward against Dean and sunk into the kiss waiting just a breath from his lips. Dean's hands cupped his face, holding his uncombed hair back. Both of them wore rumpled suits that were only half buttoned in places. Smiling into the kiss, Cass raised his hands and curled his fingers around Dean's wrists. His heart soared so high that it seemed to pass through his ribcage and fly up into the sky like a bird finally jumping from the edge of the nest after so much worry that its wings would be unable to support it and that it would fall. In Dean's arms, his model's love a tangible knowledge, he knew there wasn't a person out there that could ever make him fall again. Not as long as he had Dean, and right then, he knew that he always would.


	21. Roads That Lead Us There Are Winding

****I am so sorry it took ages to update! My muse has really been on the ball with turning this into a novel and writing that kind of took over for awhile. Also, we've just gotten a car back! YES! Hope you guys are still out there and willing to R&R, it makes my week when you do! And aww, Himeco, I've missed you guys too!***

**Author's Note:**

**AIFHFNDBSHSJASANSGDHDJ. EVERYTHING IS LCA AND NOTHING HURTS.**

**HIMECO1: I LOOOOOOOVE YOU! OH. MY. FUCKING. GOD. Those sketches are beautiful! I absolutely love them, and if you don't mind I would like to take the camera one and add that scene into this :D They are just so amazing and I can't BEGIN to say how much I adore them! And of course, thank you so much for your review last chapter!**

**Everyone, head to my profile to check out two new Lights, Camera, Action sketches!**

**Okay, okay. Now. Reply time!**

**Casismyfavorite: Thank you so much! It makes me happy to know he's portrayed well as an abuse victim, thanks so very much for your review :D**

**LV: Thanks for reviewing! I worried Dean's reaction didn't feel right, so thank you for telling me you like how it worked out!**

**Hikarilightz: As always, thanks a million for your awesome feedback! Sorry for all the abused!Cas angst, it's over now, promise XD**

**Alrighty, that covers it, I believe. I hope I didn't miss replying to anyone, anonymous or signed! If I did please let me know so I can apologize profusely and grovel for forgiveness. Anyways. The beginning of this is Dean's POV on the end of chapter twenty, and then we get into fluffy land. As you all know, I love you more than words can say for your limitless support and enthusiasm!**

**And of course, thanks so much to the lovely Micala, who edited this chapter :-)**

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><p>"<em>And all the roads we have to walk are winding<em>

_And all the lights that lead the way there are blinding_

_There are many things that I would like to say to you_

_But I don't know how_

'_Cause maybe, you're gonna be the one that saves me_

_And after all, you're my wonder wall…"_

_~Wonderwall by Ryan Adams_

Dean was a lot of things. A flirt, a slight man whore. A model and occasional con artist. Conceited, more often than not. But he wasn't a liar. Hence, he wasn't going to say it didn't feel like someone had driven a knife into his heart and twisted it when he discovered the truth about just how good of a _friend _Crowley was to Cass. When he looked up into the older man's dark, devilishly serpentine eyes and seen that he was serious, he'd fled the room. Pulling his hand free of Castiel's as the photographer stared up at him pleadingly had been damn near impossible, but he knew if he lingered that he would say or do something he would regret. _Again. _Taking a breather and having to turn down Cass was a lot better of an option than hurting the fragile stability he had finally formed with the photographer he had broken so badly once before.

When he heard Castiel approaching, seeing Cass in his peripheral vision, he received mixed emotions. Partly happy to see Cass as he always was, a little angry no matter how irrational it may be, and perhaps more than a bit dejected. None of these feelings subsided even as Castiel asked if Dean hated them. Calmly, Dean replied with a flat laugh that he didn't know how anyone could ever hate Cass. As the conversation continued, he stared deep into his lover's eyes and realized why things always seemed to end with them butting heads. It wasn't always due to them messing up beyond repair, but because they became so frustrated that no matter what the other did, it ended up being forgivable when they came to the inevitable conclusion that they were simply too reliant on each other to hold a grudge for the rest of their lives. Try as they might, and as angry or hurt as they may get, Dean knew they could never truly hate each other.

In the mindless lack of thought following _Carnevale, _Dean had let it slip from his mind what he had learned just before he revealed himself to Cass. But when he raised his hand to comb his fingers through his hair, one marginal gesture brought it all back. Castiel flinched. Such a tiny motion, insignificant in any other context. To Dean, though, it was anything but. He thought back to the way his heart sunk at hearing of the abuse Castiel had suffered in college, but even that couldn't compare for a split second to the way it felt to see the love of his life shy away as if Dean would strike him. Eyes closed in acceptance and head turned in submission. Dean's hand fell slowly back to his side as the implication of Castiel's position. A hot stinging in his eyes told him they were filling with tears, but he barely noticed.

"Oh God…" Dean murmured. He pulled his sweet, scared Castiel's trembling hands to his chest and shook his head in disbelief. He felt a tear caress his cheek. "Cass, no…oh no, sweetheart, not ever…"

He was patient as Castiel stared down at their clasped hands. Castiel's frightened eyes began to brighten, shallow breaths turning to even ones. He inhaled deeply and let it out. When his eyes met Dean's, they were…freer. Lacking a wall Dean hadn't realized was there until he thought back to the carefully guarded man he had met and fallen in love with. Under those layers of protection he saw the Castiel he'd known was there from the beginning. The beautiful, vibrant man that was entirely unafraid of the world. A hard shell had encased that person, and Dean was starting into Castiel's eyes in the seconds it took for it to crack. It dissolved into nothing right before his eyes. Cass spoke, and his voice was low but not timid. Dean was reminded of the night prior, when Castiel told him he wanted Dean inside of him unsheathed. His eyes presently held that same fearless assurance.

"Dean…will you tell me again?"

"Tell you what, Cass?" He chanced pulling Castiel a little closer and felt some tension unknot from his shoulders when Cass offered no resistance.

"Tell me you love me?"

Dean smiled, thumbs stroking the tops of Castiel's hands. He leaned forward and kissed his photographer's forehead. His lips continued to move, from Castiel's temple to the sleek angle of his cheekbone, to the velvety skin beside his nose. He lingered, inhaling the familiarity of Castiel's breath. Tenderly, he kissed Castiel's lips. He was loathe to break the kiss and instead opted for speaking into it.

"Castiel Novak, I love you more than I can ever say. More than life, more than anything else in the whole world. I love you so much, gorgeous. And I want to be with you for the rest of my life."

It was complete honesty. He couldn't stand the thought of being separated from Castiel, could hardly bear the thought of hurting him the way he had over Bela. Through the good times and the bad, _for better or for worse, _he wanted to spend the rest of his days by Castiel's side. Even had the romantic notion, one that was quite unlike him, of them going grey together. He knew that they could live to be a hundred and he wouldn't love Cass any less than he did right at that very moment. His heart and - melodrama long forgotten - soul sung as Castiel stepped forward and deepened their kiss with all of his heart shining through it. Dean framed his face with his hands, fingers brushing away strands of unruly hair. He felt Castiel smile, felt fingers circling and holding his wrists.

When it could no longer be avoided, they parted for breath. Dean took Castiel's left hand and lifted it, kissing the faint lines intersecting across his palm. He folded his fingers around Castiel's more fragile ones and tugged his photographer forward, mirroring the smile Cass wore. Castiel followed without hesitation, leaning against Dean's side as they walked. He was smiling like he had not one care in the world, and for the rest of the day, Dean planned to assure that he didn't. Bored and waiting for _Carnevale, _he had went through the brochures laying on the desk at his hotel. There were countless places he wanted to take Cass, and he wouldn't be satisfied until they went to every single one of them. Life had been a bitch to them for more time than he could recall, so it could suck it up and be put the fuck on hold for awhile.

The first surprise of the day was Dean catching a water taxi, refusing to tell a very curious Castiel where they were going. Cass smiled and sat next to his model, grin broadening further when Dean extended his arm. He tucked himself under it and snuggled happily into Dean's side. Not wanting to go back to their room to deal with Crowley and knowing going back to Castiel's place would be more or less futile because his clothes wouldn't fit Dean, the model had shrugged and simply suggested they buy some new ones. Wasn't like they could spend all day in their long sleeved dress shirts in the humid air of Venice. Adamantly refusing to let Cass pay for a dime of it, he took them shopping, picking up odds and ends of clothing in different shops until they both had a complete outfit.

Cass had blushed the same color as his new scarf when Dean told him how "fucking sexy" he looked in his new attire. His eyes had darkened lustfully as they traveled from Castiel's legs, hugged by dark denim, up to his torso, swathed in a V-necked black T-shirt that molded to his abdomen, to the smooth lines of his neck and shoulders, accentuated by a black leather jacket and a long scarf the color of fresh blood. All of these elements combined complimented every one of Castiel's most attractive features. Dean's more casual approach of washed out jeans and a white tank top was no less flattering. Castiel had looked him up and down and gave a wistful sigh, telling Dean that if they weren't in public, he may very well ask Dean to have intercourse with him right then and there. Dean, used to his boyfriend's old-fashioned terminology, had laughed and gave Cass a playful, teasing kiss. A taunt for the present, a promise for more later.

The jacket had been a splurge. Castiel didn't need it, and it now lay folded across his lap. The air was warm and dry, but he had seen it and taken to it instantly. He had also thought it a frivolous purchase and moved on. When he exited the store, Dean followed closely behind, and because Dean was Dean, he had bought Castiel's jacket for him. It was little things like that one simple gesture that made Cass melt from the inside out.

For all his arrogance, Dean was the kindest, most thoughtful man Castiel had ever known in his life. He wouldn't say that was the only side of his model that he loved, admittedly. It was not only his caring nature, his randomly sweet gestures. Also, it was his sense of humor, the direct approach that was the perfect balance to Castiel's shyness, his confidence that made Cass feel more sure of himself as a result. It was that man, the one that was all of those things and more, both tough and sweet, that Castiel had fallen in love with. The impossible enigma of a person that had found his way into Cass' heart from day one. One of the most wonderful things about Dean was that one second he could make Castiel laugh with his crude jokes that, at some point, Cass had become fond of, and then the next could be an unshakable rock of determined conviction when Castiel needed comfort or reassurance.

"What are you thinking about so hard over there? Doggy style? Handcuffs? A laxative, maybe? As intense as you look I'm gonna guess you're either horny or constipated."

…And sometimes, Castiel just wanted to slap him.

* * *

><p>Cass was wriggling with anticipation when the taxi finally slowed to a halt. He practically leapt off, Dean giving a quiet chuckle and following close behind. Castiel skidded to a surprised halt when he felt sand under his shoes. Then, looking up at down the length of the beach, his eyes widened almost comically. He knelt and sifted the white sand between his fingers. Dean could only grin, though he "humph"ed when Castiel threw himself into Dean's arms with every bit of exuberance in his body and twice his strength. Dean spun him around, both of them laughing for no reason at all other than the sheer joy of being <em>happy. <em>Happy with life, happy with each other.

He could only assume Castiel had researched Venice before he came here, because he seemed to recognize Lido right away. An eleven kilometer sandbar, Lido was as rustic as mainland Venice but had a sense of being away from _reality_. It was breathtakingly beautiful and nothing short of authentic Old World. Dean had guessed Castiel would love it here, and he was obviously correct.

Too dizzy to remain upright, Dean lowered Cass onto the beach and leaned over him. As Castiel smiled up at him, eyes sparkling, he was taken back to another moment that felt like it was so long ago, another time when his heart was fluttering around in his chest at the sight of his photographer.

"Why are you staring at me?" asked Cass, breathless from laughter.

Dean kissed him softly. "I was thinking about the first time I ever saw you smile this way. The first time I ever saw you truly happy." In a quieter tone, he added, "I think that was when I started falling in love with you."

Castiel didn't know what to say to that. He blushed, like he had done under Dean's stare the first time this episode had happened. Just as he did the first time, Dean wound his fingers in Castiel's mussed hair and stroked it slowly. Cass closed his eyes and probably could have fallen asleep right there on the beach. Dean had other plans, such as exploring Lido, so he pulled his photographer back to his feet and gave him one more quick kiss before leading him up the beach. Castiel's fingers linked with Dean's, feeling as pleasantly tiny and fragile as they ever had. It reminded Dean of the emotional fragility he had seen in Castiel until recently.

But when Dean looked over at him, he saw nothing but strength. And he couldn't be more proud.

Nor could he be more in love.

* * *

><p>They spent the day in Lido, and Castiel was loathe to leave by the time Dean practically hauled him back to the beach. They had two towels, which they laid out on to wait for the water taxi. Cass grinned, extending his hand and wiggling his fingers. Dean laced his fingers with those reaching towards him and smiled back at his ecstatic photographer. Today had been a page from a fairytale, torn from its book and thrown into the winds of realism. He almost had to wonder if it was a dream, if life was honestly capable of such perfection. Then, turning his head to look at Castiel, porcelain skin bathed in the fading Venetian sunlight, he realized that he was in love with the living proof that life was capable of that perfection. He had never seen a being more flawless and stunning than his Cass.<p>

"Dean…this day has been amazing. Thank you."

"You're welcome, gorgeous."

They again fell into a companionable silence. Dean tried not to let his palm sweat against Castiel's. The closer it got to time, the more nervous he was getting. There was only two possible outcomes, but one of them horrified him. Seeing Castiel's smile, seeing his skin painted in hues of soft reds and oranges, he knew that he would never be okay without this man in his life. He had come to feel a dependency on Castiel that both scared and thrilled him in the knowledge that it was a reciprocated need. Which is why he prayed to the deities he didn't really believe in that the following day didn't go as wrong as it had the potential to.

"Cass?"

Eyes of sapphire opened and looked over to meet his. "Yes?"

"Would you spend the rest of your life with me?"

"In a heartbeat."

Dean leaned over and kissed his photographer soundly. That was all he needed to know.

* * *

><p>Crowley was nowhere to be found when they got back to the hotel. All the better to Dean, though he could tell Cass was a little worried. That was still his friend, in spite of everything Crowley had done. It wasn't enough worry to preoccupy him, because he smiled happily when Dean said he had one more thing planned for them. The opposite of Castiel's carefree joy, Dean was nothing but frazzled nerves. As they dressed the following day, his trembling fingers refused to cooperate and button his jeans. Castiel stopped halfway through pulling his shirt on and walked over with a concerned frown.<p>

"Dean, is everything okay?"

"It's awesome," Dean replied quickly.

"You're shaking…"

"No I'm not. I'm, just, uh…"

Cass saw that he was uncomfortable and didn't push it. He still looked puzzled but didn't press the matter as he pulled the small metal button through the hole on Dean's jeans. Dean sucked in an involuntary breath as the photographer's fingers applied accidental pressure. They had both come home too exhausted for sex last night, but now he was starting to "perk up," so to speak. He leant his hips forward into Castiel's hand and groaned at the contact. Cass looked up at him and must have seen in his eyes what he wanted, because he forcefully pressed his palm to Dean's crotch. He wore a small smile of satisfaction as his lover bucked into the touch. His fingers slid past the waistband of Dean's jeans and beneath his underwear to find the bare skin of his growing erection.

That little smirk did it for Dean. He was brought to full hardness by the talented fondling of his cock and the confidence he saw in Castiel's darkening eyes. Lust shot through him and left an aching, throbbing need that pulsated in Castiel's hand. His reservations fell to the back of his mind as he shoved Cass into the wall, kissing him senseless. Castiel responded aggressively, gripping Dean's hair and tightening his grip on the model's hardness. Dean grabbed Cass and pushed him up the wall until Castiel caught on and locked his legs around Dean's waist, one ankle crossing over the other. Dean took Castiel's wrists and pinned them above the photographer's head, heart racing in time with the blood rushing down his body.

He thrust his erection forward against Castiel's, who cried out and used his legs to hold Dean against him. Dean repeated the motion, harder this time, relishing the desperate noise it tore from Castiel's throat. Cass tried to free his wrists, but Dean held them in a vicelike grip. He settled for rocking forward, meeting each of Dean's thrusts, giving a hoarse shout of raw pleasure. Dean repositioned himself so that when their erections met through the confines of their pants, he was striking the softest, most sensitive part of Castiel's cock. He angled his hips just so and brought them up forcefully, applying so much pressure to that nerve laden area that Cass screamed out his name. He made sure he hit that same spot every time.

Castiel's feet had slid under the hem of Dean's shirt, so he could feel the photographer's toes curl tightly against him. The friction between them was becoming unbearable, and his body was tensing as he was drawn to the brink of climax. Sweat formed on Castiel's chest, laid bare by his open shirt. Dean traced the smooth angle of Castiel's clavicle with his tongue, increasing his rhythm until each thrust was met with a scream. They were both shuddering and jerking, bodies unsure how to handle such overpowering sensation. He drank in the sight of Cass, having never seen him this wanton and unraveled.

But under the mere motions of sex and need were currents of something else; it was in the way Castiel cried out Dean's name, lingering in the way Dean's thumbs rubbed soothing circles into Castiel's wrists without either realizing he was doing it. In the beginning, sex had faded into love, then their love began to fade back into sex, and now, even as detached as it appeared to be, sex had become lovemaking regardless of where, when, or how roughly it happened. No amount of brainless fucking in the world could override how much they loved each other, and it shone through in tiny, caring gestures they exchanged throughout.

They climaxed together, screaming the other's name at the height of gratification. Dean couldn't speak for Cass, but he came harder than he ever had in his life. Judging from the rapturous expression on Castiel's face, it was mutual. Dean's fingers went lax on his wrists, which slipped down but were soon brought forward as Castiel wrapped his arms around Dean's neck. His face leant down to rest in the crook of the younger man's neck, fitting with such perfection that it seemed like one was molded to fit the other. The soft pads of his fingers ventured into the thin hair smattered across the nape of Dean's neck.

Castiel sighed serenely, letting the weight of his body rest in Dean's arms, trusting without hesitation that Dean wouldn't allow him to fall. Dean smiled into his hair and carried him over to the bed, laying him down on the still rumpled blankets. He joined him on the bed and opened his arms, Cass wriggling into them and burrowing so close that it was a miracle he didn't disappear into Dean's side. He tucked his head under Dean's arm and snuggled as close as gravity and the laws of physics would allow. Castiel slid Dean's shirt up and started trailing butterfly kisses down the sunkissed skin of his lover's ribcage. Warmth poured into Dean's heart at the gentle affection. Any and all reservations he had harbored for his afternoon plans melted away in an instant.

"So, feel up to going somewhere today?" he asked.

Cass looked up at him and smiled. "Where are we going?"

"It's a surprise."

"Another one?" Castiel laughed. "Lead the way."

Redressed in fresh clothes and basking in the glow of love and afternoon sunlight, they set off for town, hand in hand. Dean told himself that the humid air was what caused his palms to sweat but he was aware of his own lie. He was going through with this no matter what, but that didn't mean it didn't scare him shitless. First, they wandered about going in no particular direction, just seeing the sights. They stopped for lunch and discussed their favorite places so far. Dean looked subtly down at his watch and saw as they finished that it was time. The afternoon, like a fine wine, was growing better with every passing moment. But it was time to draw the day to a close with what Dean hoped to be nothing less than a perfect ending.

His throat was dry as parchment by the time he had guided Cass to one of the glimmering, calm canals in the heart of the city. They didn't have long to wait for a gondola, so he was spared any further questions Castiel may have had about where they were going. He was glad for this, worried that if he tried to say anything, it would come out a rather undignified squeak.

He boarded the gondola first, then held out his hand to Cass, who took it with a smile. They sat close and Dean put his arm around the older man's shoulders. Sunlight brought out the coppery colored highlights woven in Castiel's hair, and Dean threaded his fingers appreciatively through the glossy strands. Cass leant his head into Dean with a sound almost like the purr of a cat. Dean chuckled. For a few minutes, they rode in easy silence, watching the buildings go by them with interest, Castiel raising his camera a couple of times to snap a photograph.

When Dean looked over at the viewing screen, he could make out even with the sun's glare that, unsurprisingly, they were stunning. Anyone could take a snapshot of a colorful building, but it was the way Cass could manipulate the angle, the passion evident in his work, those were what made the images special and unique unto themselves. Whether it be a cameo or a carefully planned portrait, Dean viewed each of Castiel's pictures as individual masterpieces. It was no wonder Cass had found his way up the latter so quickly; he had a natural talent that, once it had been honed with education and practice, could not be matched.

"Oh my God…" Castiel suddenly whispered, grabbing Dean's bicep. "That's…"

Dean smiled upon realizing they had reached the main attraction. "The Bridge of Sighs. Once leading to a prison, they would take the condemned across it and they would sigh as they took one last look at the beauty of Venice before they died. And they say that if you kiss beneath it at sunset, you will have everlasting love and bliss."

Unless the lighting was playing tricks on Dean's eyes, then there was the shine of tears in Castiel's eyes. "That's…beautiful, Dean. I didn't know you could be so romantic."

_Oh, gorgeous, I'm just getting started. _They were nearing the bridge at a leisurely pace. Dean turned to face Castiel, and took the photographer's hands in his own. They became lost in each other's eyes for a long moment. Finally, drawing from every reserve of courage stored within him, Dean took the plunge into what could be happiness beyond comparison or, and his heart sunk at the prospect, the ultimate shattering of him, right down to the soul. This was no exaggeration when paired with the vulnerability he felt.

"Cass…I knew from the very first time we were together that you were different. That you weren't just another man, another notch in the headboard. There was something about you that got under my skin. And the longer we were together, the harder I fell for you. I live for your smile, and my heart skips a beat every time I hear you laugh. You turned me into the man I never thought I could be, and even when I hurt you, _crushed _you, still you gave me another chance. Somewhere along the way, during all of the confusion and the pain and the sex that I tried to tell myself didn't mean anything…I fell in love for the first time in my life.

"Every night, when I was a child, my mother read me a verse from the Bible. I never really got into it, I've never been much one for church. But knowing you has taken me back to the last one she read me before she died, the last words I ever heard her say. And I think maybe, she knew that one day I would remember it. If anyone could know the kind of person I would fall in love with, it was Mom. Which is why, when I thought back to that night, I thought of you."

Dean's voice was starting to break. Inhaling shakily, he proceeded to say, "'Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails.' I guess what I'm trying to say is…" He withdrew the box from his pocket, opened it to reveal the ring sparkling in its depths. "Castiel Novak, will you marry me?"

The tears trailing down Castiel's cheeks were ones of joy, of a love shared between them. "Dean…oh, Dean, of course I'll marry you!"

Dean smiled, a smile that was echoed on Castiel's face, and he slid the ring onto the correct finger on Cass' left hand. It was his mother's engagement ring, resized to fit Castiel. He rested his forehead against Castiel's, their gazes still locked.

Sunset painted the sky a blur of oranges, yellows, and vibrant reds.

And, as the gondola passed beneath the bridge above, they kissed.


	22. So sorry for the delay on posting!

**Hey guys, sorry to tease, but this isn't an update. I know, it's been ages! Typing has been a little hard due to my hands, but the conclusion to LCA will be posted soon. My editor is having some laptop issues and I will post the ending as soon as she is able to proofread it, I thank you all for your patience and support.**

**See you all again soon! Next time, it will be with an update.**

**Anyways. I am only on to post this real quick, I'm going to either crash and burn or attempt Firefly, not sure which yet.**


	23. Saying Goodbye To Lights, Camera, Action

"_We have had the time of our lives, but now the page has turned_

_The stories we will write_

_We have had the time of our lives_

_And if it has to end, I am glad you have been my friend_

_In the time of our lives."_

_~Time of Our Lives by Tyrone Wells_

***A/N ended up so long it needed its own chapter, and the final chapter ended up so long I divided it up into three different ones***

**Author's Note:**

**I keep calling Castiel "Kay" and Dean "Riley." I suck at multitasking. Anywhoodles.**

**Here is the very long awaited (and very long in length) conclusion. I am sorry that it took so long but there was so much to get in and I have been working (still) on the novel, **_**Studio 17. **_**This will be my longest A/N yet, but I'm not going to apologize for it this time because there is a lot to be said, and it is all rightfully spoken because yo guys deserve to hear it. But if you just want to skip the "farewell LCA" hoopla and just get on with the epilogue, jump down to the fic and ignore this note, I won't be offended. It'll be ridiculously long, after all.**

**How can words thank so many amazing, inspiring people? When writing a scene, the right word comes to me eventually, no matter how hard something is to describe. Now, however, I can say with complete honesty that I am coming up blank. There is so much I want to say to all of you. For your support. Your reviews. Your input and suggestions. **

**And of course, the most important thing of all. Your rave reviews on the first two chapters of what would have once been a one-shot with the "Complete" label slapped on and nothing else thought about it except for replies to the few straggling reviews of those that stumble across it. What once had the potential to end in the circumstances above is now going to be my first novel, assuming it gets published. I have my fingers crossed.**

_**Studio 17 **_**wouldn't have happened without every single one of you. I've never been particularly confident about my writing until you all kept insisting how great the fic was, and with this encouragement, I took the plunge into novel writing. I am only working on the seventh chapter but it has already been such a wild ride. All of my love as well as the novel's characters, such as Kay, Riley, Gera, Mrs. Baxley, and many others. AU interpretations of canon characters that you gave the chance to grow into their own fictional lives.**

**I don't suppose any of you would be interested in reading this novel when it's finished? *big, brown, hopeful puppy dog eyes* If so, please let me know! I will put your username or email down, whichever you would prefer, and drop you a line when/if it's published. Or, if you are an anonymous reviewer that doesn't have an account, I will put my email here and you can either leave your email in a review or email me, either one is fine. My email is **_**allthingssnarky (at) gmail (dot) com**_

**Now for some special thank yous. Arashi Affandi, for inspiring this whole thing in the first place. You're like my very own sister, and miles can never separate our bond. Everyone, check out the YouTube channel OffroadNewsMalaysia, please!**

**Micala. The most AMAZING editor in the world. You've done such a service to my novel already, and keep doing what you're doing, you have found your calling. And you're a blast and a half to talk to!**

**My mom and sister, for listening to me ramble and bitch about writer's block. And for all of the support I know they will give me during the writing process of my novel. I love you both more than words can say. Danielle, you rock for helping out with these last chapters.**

**Himeco, because darling you really need an account. I want to bombard you with messages full of thanks for the wrenchingly perfect artwork you have done for this story. It is so inspiring, and more heart lifting than you know. Thank you also for your review on Middle School Never Ends!**

**Concluding this goliath of an A/N, I have only two words I can possibly say to everyone out there reading this.**

**Thank you.**


	24. You're All I Ever Dreamed Of

"_You're all I ever I dreamed of_

_Your stars align in three sums, oh that's right_

_With the morning light, got your mind in sight_

_And I want to be there all my life_

_With the morning light, got your mind in sight_

_And I want to be there…"_

_~Morning Light by Truman_

_**One Day Earlier**_

Bleeding and sore from body and heart, Crowley left the destroyed hotel room. He withdrew his cell phone as he started down the sidewalk. Damn Dean Winchester, damn falling in love with Castiel Novak, damn it all to Hell. His heart had broken when he walked in and found them together, but he had always known it would come down to that. Cass loved that asshole too much to hate him forever. Crowley had just held out hope he might have a little longer with the photographer before Winchester came sweeping back in. But one look at Castiel, nestled contently in Dean's arms, had confirmed that their time together had just skidded to a halt.

Then again, was it worth seeing Cass in pain just so he had to rely on him? It was the first time Castiel had ever been vulnerable and dependent on Crowley, but even having a completely professional relationship with him was better than seeing his hollow, detached eyes staring back into Crowley's. It served as a small comfort that somewhere out there in the city, Castiel was happy. Or so Crowley hoped. Anger at the sight of them together having abated, he prayed he hadn't destroyed any chance Cass had at being happy, that wasn't what he wanted. He hadn't had much of a right to feel betrayed, they both knew the sex came with no strings attached, but he couldn't help how he felt about Castiel.

Yet letting the photographer go had been easier than he'd thought. Watching him walk out that door had torn at Crowley's heart, but it stubbornly remained whole. Crowley knew now to follow his instincts, to stop fighting the emotions that had been gnawing away at him while he perused Cass. Guilt, regret, longing for someone else. He scrolled through his contacts and stared down at the name matching the voice he had been hearing in his head ever since he left for Venice. Matching the face he dreamed about against his will. He may have harbored feelings for Castiel, but this was the person that _knew _him, that understood him despite his plentiful flaws. This was the person Crowley loved.

_Balthazar._

Crowley hit the SEND button and raised the phone to his ears. It rang once, twice. Three times. Halfway through the fourth, a charming British accent greeted, "Hello?"

"Balthazar."

"Crowley." He sounded pleased. "How's Venice?"

"Scenic, I suppose. I know I said we'd stick to talking when I came to visit New York, I just-"

"Do you hear me complaining?"

"Not unless I need my hearing checked."

"May not hurt, old man."

Crowley rolled his eyes. "If I give you a definite time, could you pick me up from the airport?"

"Airport?" Balthazar repeated, surprised. A prickle of excitement crept into his voice.

"Yes, airport," Crowley affirmed.

He looked over his shoulder as he walked in the opposite direction of the hotel; he could see Dean and Castiel locked in a passionate embrace against the wall. And even as he left the man he thought to be the love of his life, he felt no regrets.

Balthazar was pleasantly baffled. "What about _Venice Garde_?"

"Change of plans. I'm coming home, darling."

_**Present**_

Castiel lay in Dean's arms, spent from long hours of lovemaking. He stared at the diamond on his finger and smiled. When he looked up, Dean's brow was furrowed in a pensive line.

"Dean, what's wrong?"

A smile was quick to come to his face, and he kissed Cass gently. "Nothin', baby."

"Liar."

Dean sighed. He knew better than to try to lie to his overly perceptive fiancé. "It's just what you said at _Carnevale, _about what happened to you in college, I haven't been able to stop thinking about it."

"That was a long time ago," Cass said flatly, tensing up.

"Did you ever talk to anyone about it?"

"Jimmy."

Dean slid his thumb along the curve of Castiel's cheekbone. "How far did it go before you got away?"

"I didn't get away." Castiel sat up and wrapped his arms around himself, propping his chin on his knees.

Behind him, Dean sat up as well and started massaging the tension in his fiancé's shoulders, patiently waiting for him to continue. Cass sighed and figured he would need to tell Dean eventually. After all of the fragility Dean had endured and been kind enough not to ask questions about, he deserved to know where it all came from. He let his arms fall from around him and leaned back into Dean's chest, who didn't hesitate to move his arms down to wrap around Castiel's waist. Cass decided to start from the beginning.

"I met him when I was a freshman in college. I was lost, he showed me to class…I was a photographer, he was an art student. It was like we were a match made in Heaven. He went to church every Sunday, he was even Catholic like me. I thought I had found my perfect match. We started dating, and I fell head over heels in love with him. He was almost _too _perfect. My mother said he was too good to be true. And, as it would turn out, he was."

Castiel turned to look at Dean and saw his future husband's unflinching willingness to listen. He prepared himself for the long tale, took a deep breath. Finally, he told Dean his story. Told him of those years and of the torments he withstood. He told Dean _everything._

…

For Castiel's sake, Dean held his tears in. He refrained from surrendering to the scream of frustration trying to rip from his throat. But when Cass finished recounting his horror in college, he could not keep himself from tightening his arms around the smaller man to a point that may have been painful, but Cass seemed grateful for the strength with which Dean held him. He was silent in Dean's arms for a long time. When Dean next looked down, just as the sun was breaking over the horizon, he saw the photographer's lips parted and his eyes closed. Castiel had fallen asleep.

Of this, Dean was glad; his fiancé had just recounted his worst nightmares, yet not a one seemed to trouble his sleep. He had no doubt it must be exhausting to relive something like that in the detail he had shared with Dean. But there was something in the peaceful, content set of his slumbering features that suggested to Dean that not only had Cass relived it, but had overcome it. Dean's heartstrings tugged at the thought of it taking Castiel ten years to move past the traumas of his early adulthood.

In his arms, he now had the phoenix that had finally risen from the ashes of his past. The Castiel he had always known was hiding behind those walls had emerged from his shell entirely and without reservations.

…

Dean fell asleep as well, at some point. Castiel awoke and found that they had settled back into the pillows, and his fiancé was out like a light. He smiled and rose from the bed. Not wanting to disturb Dean, he pulled the curtains open only a small bit so he could look out at the city. He was not near a clock but the sun's position in the sky suggested mid-morning. Eight or nine, maybe. Locked in this room, above a city that looked like an illustration from a child's fable, time seemed not to exist. Like this was his own slice of the world.

Watching his future husband sleep let him process the past few days and everything that had happened during them. At some point, slapping Dean across the face for his lying had evaded Castiel's to-do list. It wasn't that he had forgotten the pain Dean had put him through, simply let it slip his mind how deeply the model had deceived him. He had been shocked to hear himself say it when, after they made love, he told Dean that he loved him. While this was not a lie, he hadn't planned on laying himself that bare again so soon after they saw each other.

But his body and heart had fallen prey from the second Dean touched him, and his kind nature had prompted forgiveness earlier than it was probably due. He accepted that it was impossible to stay mad at Dean and he didn't feel like starting an argument. Dean had thought he was worth coming all the way to Venice for, and deep down, that was all Castiel wanted. Somehow, no matter how irrational the reasoning was, knowing that Dean had been willing to fight for him outweighed the hurt of his betrayal.

Because of this, some may call him weak. Others may call him a pushover.

He would tell them, quite simply, that he was only a man in love.

_Even better. You're a man in love, and you are loved back. _For the first time in years, he agreed with that voice in his mind. The voice was no longer harsh or demeaning. It sounded as happy with life as he did. He smiled as he sat down on the edge of the bed, watching his model sleep. Dean was so gorgeous. His lips looked sculpted by the greatest Roman artists, and his eyes, when open, were the most stunning shade of green Castiel had ever seen. Dean was the lover to his lonely heart, the muse to Castiel's artistry.

Venice was beautiful, but Cass knew he would not look back when they left. He longed for home. For his apartment, for his family. He was especially eager to see Jimmy. And New York would make his marriage entirely legal, and though they didn't need an authorized document to confirm they were spending the rest of their lives together, he wanted to say that he was _officially _Dean's husband in every since of the word.

It did not even cross his mind to hesitate in abandoning his new job. No amount of money in the world could separate him from Dean, and it wasn't like he was hard up when he was doing freelance photography. If you walked up to any person on the street that kept up with fashion magazines and said his name, they would probably know it right off the rip. More than a few ads you find in _Vogue _and _Style _will be captioned beneath with the words _Photography by Castiel Novak._

"Dean."

The response he got was a long, drape-billowing snore.

"Dean," he said, louder this time.

If the man in question snored any louder, the paint was going to chip.

"_Dean_." His snores were rising in decibel levels. Castiel sighed. "Dean, you're supposed to marry me, not suck me up your nose.'

_Fine, we'll do this the hard way. _Cass went into the bathroom, ran a glass full of cold water, and upon returning, dumped its contents onto Dean's head. He smiled contently as the model flew upwards, blinking and shivering. He turned to Castiel, saw the empty glass and amused smirk. Cass snickered as Dean glared.

"What the hell was that for?"

"Trying to suction me into your nasal passages."

"Asshole."

"Dickhead."

"Love you too."

Dean stumbled off to get a shower, so Castiel leaned against the dresser and scrolled through his contacts. He selected the direct extension to _Venice Garde'_s manager.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Mr. De Luca. This is Castiel Novak…"

"Yes, we spoke recently about your new position as staff photographer. How may I help you?" His words were polite, but his tone betrayed how eager he was to get Castiel's problem out of the way.

"I cannot say how grateful I am for the opportunity you've presented me, and it means so much to me both personally and as a photographer, but-"

"You quit," the man finished flatly.

Cass sighed. "Yes, sir. I quit."

The rest of the conversation was quick and simple. Because he had not even started his first assignment, there was no financial loose ends to tie up. Castiel figured it would go terribly, telling this man he was declining the job, but the enigmatic Adalrico De Lucasurprised him no small amount by telling him he would record the incident as an emergency coming up that forced Castiel back to New York, and he would always be open to giving Cass a good reference.

"Thank you so much."

"Yes, yes, very well. Do you require any more of my time today, Mr. Novak?"

"No, sir. Thank you, sir."

They hung up.

Castiel closed his phone and blinked. His luck had never been this good. He was going to have a professional reference from a foreign magazine franchise he had not even done any work for. He laid his phone on the dresser and turned, surprised to find Dean leaning in the doorway, a towel wrapped around his waist. He was staring at Castiel.

He asked a single question, if not a loaded one. It meant more than just quitting a job. It covered territory that went far beyond that, and his eyes were scared as he awaited Castiel's answer.

"No regrets?"

Cass smiled. "No regrets."


	25. To Breathe Again, To Start Again

"_I'm coming home_

_To breathe again, to start again_

_I'm coming home_

_From all the places I have been_

_With nothing but a voice within_

_That calls me, calls me home."_

_~Calls Me Home by Shannon LaBrie_

It was a long flight home. When they finally got off the plane, Dean was so jetlagged he couldn't see straight. Castiel laughed. He had taken photographs all over the world, he could adjust to almost any schedule. Dean, however, was groggy from the bodily confusion resulting from the six hour time difference between Venice and New York. He was nearly asleep standing up. Castiel wrapped an arm around his waist, and Dean leaned gratefully into his fiancé.

Cass had to release Dean, though, when Jimmy saw them, because he didn't want the model taking the brunt of the attack hug Jimmy flung on him the minute he pushed his way through the crowd. Castiel smiled and hugged his twin back. Even in the short time he had been gone, he had missed his brother like crazy. He knew he wasn't the only one with that issue when he saw the way Dean hugged his own brother, though it was the slightly awkward "man-hug" of two alpha males. Gabriel stood nearby, watching with a smile. Castiel smiled at the thought that it just might be Sam and Gabriel as the next ones walking down the aisle.

"Jimmy, I have something to tell you."

Dean beat Castiel to the punch.

He climbed up on to one of the tables people could sit at while waiting on a flight, and at the top of his lungs, "Hey, you people listen up!"

Several turned in his direction with interest.

Castiel barely had time to stutter out his mortification before Dean was pulling him up on the table as well, holding Cass close to his side as he proudly announced, "We're getting married."

A large portion of the crowd erupted into cheers. Castiel's protests against the dramatic announcement were cut off by Dean dipping Cass down into a kiss suitable to the most typical of chick flicks. But it felt nothing but typical to Castiel as his weight rested completely on Dean's arm. The kiss was so sweet and perfect that he felt like he had been dropped into a fairytale. He smiled against Dean's mouth, happiness and change of altitude dizzying him as he was swung back upright.

"You're insane," he remarked breathlessly.

Dean grinned, eyes wild. "Still love me?"

"Of course I do, you mentally impaired fool."

When they kissed this time, it was like no one else was in the room.

…

They exited the terminal arm in arm. Jimmy hung back, talking to Gabriel, who was cozied up to Sam. Dean was chuckling at something Sam said when Castiel jolted to a halt. He looked down. Castiel's eyes were wide, and his face was an unnatural shade of white. He had never looked so terrified. Shaking, he backed into Dean and wrapped both of his hands around those of his lover. Dean covered Castiel's hands with his free one and felt his fiancé's fingers shaking. Cass closed his eyes, hoping, _praying _to God and all things good he hadn't laid eyes on what he thought he had.

"No, no…please, God, no. Not now, not after all this…" he whispered, frantic.

Dean pulled him close and wrapped both arms around him, splaying one hand on Castiel's stomach, the other on his chest. Shielding him. "Cass…hey, hey, what is it baby?"

"It's him. Oh, Dean, it's him…" His words were becoming more disjointed by the second, head shaking in short, spasm-like movements.

"It's who? What's going on?"

Jimmy stumbled to a halt. His voice was thick with hatred and anger. "Castiel's worst nightmare just came true. Is that…what the fuck. Is that _Crowley_?"

Dean was lost. All he saw was Crowley walking next to Balthazar, and while they made an odd pair, he really didn't understand the drama unfolding. Anna was also there, and she greeted Balthazar with a hug and a warm smile. Castiel watched, frozen until that moment. He saw the two exchange pleasantries and choked as if he would throw up. Dean held his straggly hair back just in case. He wanted answers, but he wasn't sure at this point if his photographer could speak.

The shock faded. Cass wrenched himself from Dean's arms and strode over, grabbing Balthazar and slinging him into the wall with the force of a freight train. He whispered something through clenched teeth before his hands wound around the blond man's throat, tightening his grip until Balthazar's eyes rolled back in his head and he struggled for breath. The sight only made Castiel squeeze harder. His voice was starting to heighten, and he screamed loud enough for everyone present to hear.

"What's wrong? Hurting? Take it like a _man_! Isn't that what you told me? Didn't you say that when you burned me? Hit me? Tried to _rape me_? Isn't it? Come on Balthazar, _take it like a man_!" He was screeching by this point, rabid with fury.

"Cass!" Dean pried his fiancé off, grunting as he took an elbow to the crotch. He still didn't release the enraged man. "What the fuck is going on?"

"That's him, Dean. That's the man I told you about."

Dean was so shocked that his hands went slack. Thankfully, Cass didn't launch back into attack. Dean felt like _he _was going to throw up, now. He stared at his heavily breathing housemate in disgusted horror. "Balthazar…_you _were Castiel's boyfriend in college?"

"Yes." Balthazar had the sense to look ashamed.

"Motherfucker! You tried to _rape him_!"

Now Dean was the one screaming, and he had only landed one good blow before security pulled him off. They let him go with a warning to leave Balthazar alone and to keep Castiel under control before they were both arrested for assault. Anna led them both away, and Crowley just stood there, slack jawed with appalled confusion. Sam scrambled after Dean, and Gabriel wore no expression at all. He was as unreadable as a blank slate.

They got outside. Castiel immediately found a trashcan and wretched until there was nothing left in his stomach. Dean stroked the hair he was holding back. Anna was staring at her feet, unable to meet the eyes of Sam or Gabriel. Dean retrieved a napkin from the dash of the car and cleaned Castiel up, who nodded in gratitude before turning to his siblings. No one knew where Jimmy had gotten off to.

"You knew."

Gabriel flinched at the accusation. Anna was the one to speak up. "He would have told you."

"Really? He sure was taking his sweet time. Dean told me on our way out here that Balthazar _lives _with him. Gabriel, you didn't think I needed to know this?"

"I told him that if he breathed a word of it to you, I would destroy his and Sam's names until they couldn't show their faces this side of North America," Anna said.

"What?" Hot, stinging betrayal lanced Castiel's heart.

"I told Balthazar where you were."

Dean looked like he was narrowly refraining from slapping her. "Why the fuck would you do that?"

"I wanted him to suffer." She shrugged coldly. "Mom adored him, growing up. I did everything, _everything _to please her. Dressed like her, acted like her, talked like her…but she loved Castiel more than any of us. And what did he do? Left. Went off to college. Wasn't even _there _when she died of cancer. He came by every day after school but wouldn't sacrifice his precious education to be with her. But to the moment she died, she always loved precious little Cassy best."

"I would have been there!" Cass shouted. "But she begged me to stay in school because she didn't want to die with the guilt of knowing I gave up school to stay at her bedside."

"You mean to tell me you told some sicko where Cass was to torment him over sibling rivalry bullshit?" Dean demanded.

"That's exactly what I did. And I don't regret it."

Castiel choked down a sob, staring at the sister he loved, _adored. _"You hate me that much? Didn't you see how I flinched from him when I brought him home to meet you guys? Couldn't you hear how he yelled at me when he thought no one else could hear?"

"Of course I did. That's why I enlisted him to put you in your place. Everything was ready to go until that fucking manager of yours showed up and Balthazar fell in love with the smarmy asshole."

"I…you…Anna Melanie Novak, don't you ever speak to me again. I do not ever want to see you again. Do not show up at my house, and don't even think about showing up at my wedding." Castiel stepped closer and stared down into her eyes, shaking his head dismally. "You almost managed to break me. You came pretty damn close. Alas, I really hate to break this to you, but no one is ever going to break me again. I'm too strong for that."

He stepped back to Dean, and hands joined, they made their way to the car. Cass stopped only to look over his shoulder and say, "One more thing."

She tossed her dark red hair over her shoulder, arms folded. "What?"

"Fuck you, little sister."

Dean led him to the car. Opened his door, helped him inside. They pulled out of the parking lot. Cass reached down and turned on the radio. His heart ached, but, as he told his sister, could not be broken. The only man with the capabilities to do that sat next to him, and he knew that Dean would never do that. He didn't have a doubt in the world. The radio station turned out to be the mainstream pop of their nightmares, and he couldn't be more eager to turn it to something tolerable, but not before he heard a single chorus that stayed with him for the rest of his life. For a second, he forgot it was probably about some boy declining to take her to the prom, or something equally shallow. It was not the singer or the nature of the music that struck him. It was the words.

_You can take everything I have_

_You can break everything I am_

_Like I'm made of glass, like I'm made of paper_

_Go on and try to tear me down_

_I will be rising from the ground_

_Like a skyscraper._

_**Three Months Later**_

It began with a single phone call.

Dean's agent, asking him if it was true that he told a reporter vicious slander about the chief editor of the company he had just modeled for. Dean denied it, his agent believed him.

Then another, then three in a day.

Dean threw himself onto the couch of Castiel's apartment - their apartment, now. Cass had been worrying sick over Dean's stress and tugged his fiancé's feet into his lap, massaging them and working his thumbs into the tender skin. Dean relaxed against his better judgment. When Castiel finished with his feet, he stood behind the couch and began working his magic on Dean's shoulders. Dean dropped his head back into Castiel's chest with a happy sigh. He savored the contentment awarded to him by his photographer's talented fingers before the reality of the situation dropped back down on him like a block of cement.

Castiel felt Dean tense once more under his hands. He came around and perched on Dean's knee with a frown. "You think it's her."

"I know it's her. Hell, I'm not surprised. I was waiting on her skanky ass to play her hand."

"Let's fly out to Lawrence, talk to her."

Dean barked out a bitter laugh. "Won't do any good. You can't 'talk' to Bela goddamn Talbot. She's pissed and making good on her promise."

"Can we try?"

Dean looked down at the ring sparkling on the finger of the man he would be marrying in just over a week, the symbolization of the trust he placed in Castiel's judgment, the mutual trust they would lead each other down the correct paths.

"Alright. We'll try."

…

Castiel dozed during the flight. The past couple months were a blur. So much had happened. Meeting Dean, falling for him, getting his heart broken, Venice, agreeing to marry him…seeing Balthazar again. That had nearly ripped down the stronger version of himself he had become. Not quite, however. Dean packed his things from the manor he shared with him, and Balthazar asked to see Cass. Dean rejected him cold and informed him that if it hadn't been for Castiel telling him Balthazar wasn't worth going to prison over, he would already be dead. Balthazar persisted, and Castiel finally agreed.

They met at Starbucks like two old friends. Castiel skipped right past the small talk and asked why Balthazar wanted to see him. Balthazar knew the damage he had inflicted and the scars Cass still bore. Why did he even want to talk? Balthazar answered that he wanted to make amends.

"Amends?" Castiel had repeated. "You mean amends for abusing me, beating me into submission, almost taking my virginity against my will?"

Balthazar apologized. He sounded sincere. Castiel had looked away, and didn't say a word for several minutes. Cass tried to talk his way out of discussing it by telling the designer he just wanted to move on with his life and had no use for having lattes with the demons of his past he had already gotten over. Balthazar understood, but said words Cass had spent their entire relationship waiting to hear, and now they were just an empty proclamation. Ghostly footprints on a road unraveled.

"I loved you, Castiel. You meant the world to me. And I know I didn't show it, I was too damn far into that bottle. But I've spent my whole life wishing I could make this right."

Castiel had realized how much it meant for Balthazar to hear that he was not hated. He wasn't, really. Cass didn't care enough about him to harbor such a strong emotion. He said as much, and that he had burned the bridges between them a long time ago. Balthazar nodded, held up a coin.

"Token of sobriety," he had said. "But all of the support groups in the world couldn't make me forget breaking the first man I ever loved."

"For what it's worth," Cass had started to say, but had to take a breath before he could proceed. "For what it's worth, Balthazar, I don't have the energy to hate you. I have a great career, I'm marrying the man of my dreams…I don't want to spend the rest of my life resenting people that want to move on like I do. Even you."

_Even you._

The words had hefted a weight from his shoulders that allowed him to shake Balthazar's hand, accept the man's well wishes for his marriage, and tell the once abusive man that he hoped he would find his own happiness in Crowley. That Crowley - who had assured Castiel he had no idea of what Balthazar had done to him - was a good man and maybe, somewhere deep down, so was Balthazar. With those words, Cass left. They had not spoken since. Nor had he spoken to Anna since the day at the airport, and he was glad. What she had done hurt, but with Dean at his side, there was no wound that could not heal.

"It'll be okay, we'll get this sorted out," Castiel assured on the way to Dean's childhood home.

"Yeah. I know." Dean's hands were shaking so badly that Castiel had taken over driving.

Castiel perceived the fear, having heard it many times in his own voice. "You're afraid of him."

"Fuck no I'm not afraid of him," Dean snapped, shooting a glare at Cass.

"Easy, lover. It's nothing to be ashamed of. I've been there."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"It's okay."

Their hands met on the console, and the large home swam into view.


	26. This Broken Heart Can Still Survive

***Some parting fluff, Bela getting it (thank you, SidewaysCope), and my heart breaking because I never wanted to part with this story lol. I am going to miss you guys like crazy!**

"_The sun is breaking in your eyes, to start a new day_

_This broken heart can still survive, with a touch of your grace_

_The shadows fade into the light _

_I am by your side, where love will find you…_

_What about now, what about today?_

_What if you're making me all that I was meant to be?_

_What about love, it never went away_

_What if it's lost behind, words we can never find_

_Baby before it's too late, what about now…"_

_~What About Now by Chris Daughtry_

Dean slid his key into the door and pushed it open, one hand still intertwined with his soon-to-be husband's. John sat on the sofa, reassembling a hunting rifle. He looked up and his knuckles strained white against his hands as he balled his fists. Dean didn't flinch, even seeing the Smith & Wesson cradled across his bear of a father's lap. It was partly due to the strength in the small but sure hand gripping his. John averted his gaze from Dean to stare at the blue-eyed man behind him with disgust. Castiel stared back evenly.

Dean cleared his throat. "Hey, Dad."

"So this is your whore, then?"

Had Cass not grabbed his arms and held him back, Dean would have lunged into an attack. He almost turned on his fiancé without thinking, knocking him off, but the gentle strokes of Castiel's fingers against his biceps reminded him that they were on the same side. When his muscles uncoiled, Cass released him. Dean turned back to his father. John's eyes were muddled by a milky film, and there was a semi-transparent smear on the rifle from his sweating palms. He was drunk.

"We're engaged, Dad. I'm going to marry him."

"I heard," John spat. "It's all over the papers ever since you two announced it in front of the whole fucking airport. Bela's taking care of things, so it serves you right, boy. I'm just sorry your brother has to bear the consequences of your faggot ass shacking up with that skinny bitch beside you."

"Don't you _ever _talk about Cass that way. I will take that gun right out of your hands and blow your motherfucking brains out." Dean's voice was so calm that it was terrifying.

"Now now boys, let's not get ahead of ourselves."

Dean and Castiel tensed. Bela emerged from the hallway, long hair twisted up in an upsweep, body stuffed into a silken red dress. _Evil has a beautiful face, _Dean thought. But now that she had shown her true colors, he looked at her and could only see the ugly. He almost expected her to hiss with a forked tongue. Lost in thought as he was, he didn't notice Cass had moved from his side until he saw that lithe form stalking across the living room. Dean smirked. Demure as he may appear, Castiel Novak was not someone you wanted to piss off.

This was proved when Cass slapped Bela hard across the face, spitting out the words, "You _bitch_."

She pressed a hand to her cheek, a bloodied scratch marring her face from Castiel's ring. She raised a hand to return the favor, but Cass effortlessly caught her wrist and pinned it to her back, rendering her immobile. As a past abuse victim, raising his hand to someone didn't feel quite right, but he was too furious at what she had done to Dean to hold himself back. Bela shrieked in pain and yelled for Dean to call off his dog.

"That's laughable, sweetheart. I'll call him off the second you put things back the way they're supposed to be with mine and Sam's careers."

She struggled against a grip she had no chance of escaping. "Not happening." Then she glared over her shoulder at Castiel and added, "Hasn't anyone ever told you it's wrong to hit a woman?"

His response was deadpan. "Sorry. My father had a habit of slapping dogs. Guess it runs in the family after all."

"Bastard."

"Slut."

"Faggot."

"Skank."

"Man whore."

"Two-bit tramp that couldn't charge a dollar an hour because you'd have to give change."

She had no reply for that one.

He took advantage of her silence and pushed her against the wall, one arm across her upper chest, holding her still with no effort. He got in her face, voice dropping to a snarl. "Put right what you've done, Bela. Or I swear as God as my witness that I will not ruin your life, I will ruin _you. _Let's see how that pretty little face looks when it meets a friend of mine in a dark alley." Cass stood back, relishing the widened, greenish blue eyes staring at him. "Let's go, Dean." Dean took his arm and led him out, though Castiel pulled him to one more stop. "Just a second, sweetheart."

Castiel pulled his fist back and brought it forwards into John's face, sending him to the ground, clutching his bleeding nose. Dean watched his massive father hit the ground, taken down by skinny little Cass, and burst out laughing. Dean tucked his fiancé under his arm and kicked John on their way out.

"Cass, you're awesome."

"I learned from the best."

Dean kissed him in gratitude, and the drive to _Harvelle's _was a lighthearted one. Castiel met Dean's friends in person and was warmly welcomed, hugged and fawned over, even by Ellen. Dean sighed and watched the woman that had been threatening to kick his ass since he was a teenager go all lovey-dovey over Cass. Figures. They sat at the bar, recapping what had gone down at the Winchester house. Andy offered Castile a celebratory joint, which he declined as politely as possible.

"So, I gotta ask," Ash started. "Would you really send somebody to beat a woman up?"

"Of course not." Castiel smiled wickedly. "But she sure doesn't know that."

They were interrupted by the door swinging open. Jo looked up from handing Ash another Bud Light and grinned. "Hey, Bobby. Come meet the future Mr. Winchester."

"Future what? Lord, what are you idjits up to in here?" He ambled over and leaned against the side of the bar.

Castiel braced himself and rose. He could see the widening of Dean's eyes and knew that if the opinion of anyone mattered, it was the man that had just walked through the door. He straightened his spine and extended his hand. "Castiel Novak-Winchester, sir." _My God that sounds amazing._

The man - Bobby, Jo had called him - shook Castiel's hand firmly and seemed satisfied by the shake he got in return. "Bobby Singer."

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Cass said sincerely.

Bobby maintained his clasp on the younger man's hand, looking at Castiel from head to toe, sizing him up. He looked at Castiel's understated clothing, sure stance, and proud way of making sure his engagement ring faced up for the world to see. Bobby locked his eyes with Castiel's, and Cass wondered what the older man was looking for, and if he found it. He met the bearded man's gaze with as much respectful confidence as he could. When Bobby released his hand and turned away to face Dean, Castiel ducked his head, sure he had made the wrong impression.

"This one's a keeper, son."

Castiel's head snapped up, and he held back a shocked laugh and condensed it into a smile. Dean leapt to his feet and wrapped both arms around Cass' waist from behind him, kissing the photographer's temple excitedly. "I know he is, Bobby. You're comin' to the wedding, aren't ya?"

"And you better damn well invite me."

"Already planned on putting it in the mail, old man."

"_What _did you just call me?"

Cass backed up, laughing as the two men scuffled playfully. Ellen shook her head fondly, Jo and Andy taking bets on who would win if it was a real fight. Ash grinned and sipped his beer. Castiel perched on his barstool and watched his future husband play fight with the man Cass assumed to be some sort of father figure to him. He smiled when Dean, out of breath, returned to his side and kissed him. Castiel kissed back chastely in respect of the company, and laughed as Dean pulled away.

"What was that for?" he asked.

Dean shrugged. "'Cause I felt like it."

It was little things like that, the things that made Castiel start feeling less like a frequently sexed up boyfriend and more like Dean's husband. _Husband. _The word still tasted foreign, but he loved it. He would be proud to introduce himself as the husband of Dean Winchester, the companion to such a man. And he knew now that Dean would claim his matrimony to Castiel with the same pride. There were no regrets between them, and before the two was an open road, waiting to be traveled. Castiel leaned his head onto Dean's shoulder and knew they had rid themselves of old demons, and were ready to tread that path unshackled by their pasts.

Thirty-six years later, everything had fallen into place.

….

Dean drove them to the hotel room they were staying at until in the morning. Their flight was scheduled for nine a.m. They walked in, closed the door behind them. Castiel twisted his engagement ring around on his finger and watched the muscles moving in Dean's back as he stripped his clothes off. There was still tension there. Not the kind that Cass had seen and later found out signified the fear Dean harbored for their relationship, but something about Dean's pensive silence felt personal. Cass knew that whatever was going on inside his lover's head, he had nothing to do with it.

He wondered if he should intrude on Dean's privacy, ask him what he was thinking about. If Dean had something important to say, he would say it, but the stubborn ass still had a hard time talking about his feelings. Castiel knew Dean wouldn't be _angry, _per se, if he asked, but if it was something his fiancé would rather not discuss, he didn't want to push. Dean had waited patiently for Cass to come forth about his college years, he intended to show Dean the same respect. At the same time, he wanted Dean to know that if he needed to talk, Cass was there to listen.

They changed into clothes to sleep in. Dean quietly thanked Castiel for handling the situation at the Winchester house earlier, and muttered under his breath what sounded suspiciously like, "Since I was too much of a coward to stand up to my own damn father."

"What?" Cass inquired softly, hoping he hadn't heard that right.

"Nothing." Dean's voice left no room for negotiation. This was something cared little for talking about.

Dean slid under the covers but remained sitting, legs folded Indian style. Castiel sat across from him and, after a moment of debate, held out his hands. Dean sighed and took them, resting them on the bed between the two. Cass was silent at first, choosing his words carefully. He averted his eyes down to his too large T-shirt, which was one of Dean's. It was filled with holes and covered in stains from doing paint jobs in his father's shop, but Cass refused to part with it. He looked back up at Dean and inhaled.

"I just…want you to know that if you ever need to talk, someone to listen, I'm always here. Always will be."

Dean wasn't upset by the words. He leaned across and kissed his fiancé tenderly. He unwound their hands and drew Cass to him, and Castiel could hear the erratic beating of Dean's heart slow as they held each other. He wrapped his arms around Dean's waist and said nothing. Neither did Dean, for a long time.

"I know."

Castiel heard a hesitation. Not in the sentiment, but as if that wasn't all Dean had to say. He waited. Dean rubbed the knobs of his spine under his oversized shirt, releasing a sigh. He was searching for words, and Castiel was patient until Dean found them.

"My Dad raised me with a firm hand. Real firm." His voice shook slightly on the last two words, but he plowed on. "I took it to protect Sammy from the same treatment. I'm pretty sure as he got older, Sam figured out what Dad had done. One time he thanked me without ever saying what he was thanking me for. I think I know, though. I never regretted what I went through to keep him safe, and he never stopped being grateful, even though any sibling in my situation would do the same thing."

"Not every sibling," Castiel interjected quietly. "It takes a Hell of a man to do what you did for your brother, Dean. Most big brothers, or sisters, wouldn't even bother. But you put yourself through that to shield Sam from it, and that has to be the most noble, kindest thing I have ever heard."

"…You don't think I'm a coward for not standing up to him today?" It was betrayed in his voice that how Castiel replied mattered, more than he would admit.

"Never," Cass responded sincerely. "You were the bigger man. Lowering yourself to his level wouldn't make you any better than him. Maybe I shouldn't have slapped Bela, but Gabriel always told me gay men are close enough to women so it isn't domestic violence."

Dean chuckled. "Thank you. For being there…for telling me it's okay."

"You have done the same for me more times than I can recall. I'll always be here when you need me."

"Cass?"

Castiel looked up. "Yes?"

"I'm glad I met you. I can't think of anyone else I would spend the rest of my life with, but now I can't see my life without you in it."

Cass blinked. Dean leaned down, and they kissed with passion. Their earlier fatigue over the day faded, and they made love right there, Castiel seated atop Dean in his lap, moving languidly with his fiancé. They kissed throughout, pulling away only for air, to whisper in the other's ear, to gasp out in pleasure. Dean was the one to fall asleep in Castiel's arms, face buried in his photographer's neck. Castiel lowered them onto the bed, and fell asleep with Dean held close to him.

….

Dean was back to his usual self the next morning. He teased and played as always, and Castiel smiled in relief. Last night, opening up about his father, seemed to have helped Dean move past it. Dean seemed even more upbeat than Castiel was used to, messing playfully with the photographer as they got ready to leave. Cass laughed several times as Dean made faces at him or plucked things from his hands as he tried to pack them. The behavior was light and childish in the most endearing of ways.

"Caaaaassss…" Dean sang from behind his fiancé. It was a pleading tone that, when Castiel turned towards, was paired with large, green puppy dog eyes. Uh oh.

Castiel was infected by Dean's smile and felt one of his own come into place. "Yes?"

"I want to take a picture with your camera."

"Okay." Castiel shrugged and pulled his point and shoot from his the pocket of the leather jacket Dean had bought him from Italy, extending it towards his model. It was an odd request to be paired with such hopeful eyes.

Dean grinned wider, his pleading expression furthering. "The big one."

Oh. Dear lord. Big one…Castiel paled. The only other camera he had with him was his professional one, a Hasselblad D40, 64 mega pixels and a forty thousand dollar camera. He stared at Dean's large and sometimes clumsy hands, then up at the big jade colored eyes fixed on his. Cass was obscenely protective over his cameras, _especially _that one. It was his most prized possession, other than his engagement ring than he parted with only to shower and the outfit Dean had bought for him.

But he trusted his fiancé, and he didn't want to hurt Dean's feelings by turning him down.

"Alright. Go ahead," he said, sounding far more assured than he felt.

Dean's smile was worth it. Just the fact Castiel trusted him enough to handle the camera thrilled him, and it showed. Cass watched with a fond, if not worried, smile as Dean extracted it from its case and held it up. He examined it with curiosity, but his hands grasped it carefully, not once slipping. Castiel winced a bit as Dean flipped it onto its side roughly to examine the switches there.

"Please don't break it," he requested worriedly.

"I won't," Dean promised. "Now, smile big n' pretty for me."

Castiel laughed, impressed when Dean managed to open the flash and take the picture with only a couple minutes of figuring out how it operated. Dean took several pictures, asking Cass to turn this way and that, instructing him to pose a certain way. Castiel couldn't help but enjoy the brief role reversal.

When Dean finished, he had Castiel help him shut it down correctly, and replaced it gently in its case. Castiel thanked him for his consideration. "You're a natural photographer," he complimented.

Dean kissed his cheek. "You're a natural model."

Cass blushed, and watched as Dean pulled a case out of his pocket. It was long and hard, probably about an inch and a half thick. "What's that?"

"Somethin' I picked up on my way home from work the other day. I almost forgot about them until you were posing, and I realized something was missing."

Confused and interested, Castiel opened the dark brown case. It revealed a pair of classy, black framed spectacles. He saw that they were a prescription suited to his eyesight problem, and knew that whatever Dean said, this had been premeditated. They would have had to have been special ordered. He pulled them out, opened them, and stared down at them. It was a shock how touched he was, right down to his heart, by such a simple gesture.

"I remember you told me about what Balthazar did to your old ones, and I thought maybe you never wore glasses again because he made you think there was something wrong with it."

Castiel nodded, stunned by the accuracy of the observation. "Dean…thank you." He slid the glasses on, a little self conscious. He wondered if he looked nerdy, or too old, or-

Dean kissed his thoughts away. Staring at Castiel with nothing less than full adoration, he said, "Now that…that is what I call perfection."

Dean took another picture, this time of Castiel in his glasses.

He would later frame it, and it never left his dresser.

_**Nineteen Days Later**_

If you later asked Castiel to recount that day, he would be likely to do so, if not with a dazed smile and fond look towards his husband. He could tell you so much about it, small details that no one else noticed but he would remember for the rest of his life.

The suit was white, matched to a silk tie the exact shade of his eyes. Jimmy helped him into it and fastened his cuff links. His eyes were red and watery, jaw clenched as he fought tears. They were not tears of unhappiness, but seeing his twin dressed in white and about to be married knocked him for a loop. Castiel laughed quietly. The infallible, tough as nails Jimmy Novak was crying. At a wedding. Who would have thought?

It was a traditional wedding, minus a lacey dress. Jimmy walked his twin down the aisle, and Dean drank in the sight of Castiel with an adoration that was reflected in his eyes. Cass smiled like the sun, and moved with the fluidity of water. Sam was his big brother's best man, and shared a fond look of amusement with Gabriel. He imagined the small, blond man in a suit of such splendor, and smiled with anticipation. They had gotten engaged one week ago.

Dean and Castiel were a vision, standing in the New York Botanical Gardens, surrounded by friends and family. John wasn't there, and neither was Anna. This suited the grooms just fine. Crowley was there, with Balthazar as his date. Castiel had been shocked to see his ex but saw the protective way Crowley grasped his lover's arm, and welcomed the two warmly. Whatever reservations he had with Balthazar, and however many times he had considered the wild possibility that Crowley had at some point felt something for him other than friendly care and lust, the sight of them did not put him ill at ease.

Sam and Dean's careers were left unscathed after Bela was threatened. Castiel's was getting better every day, and his title was becoming a regular sight in fashion magazines around the world. He had even been featured in National Geographic a couple times. Dean modeled for various designers, debuting several male lines of people that usually made clothes for women. He had regular shoots with Armani and Gucci. Often, people requested both him and Sam. The press ate up the Winchesters for all they were worth.

It was a beautiful wedding. The kiss they shared was magical, and so was the smile they shared afterwards. At the reception, they danced their first dance as a married couple to John Barrowman's cover of the ever clichéd, but so touching song "Heaven." Castiel didn't care who thought it was sappy, and forgot the rest of the world as he laid his head on Dean's shoulder and swayed to the music, loved and safe in the arms of his husband.

They were legally married in the state of New York, now. Castiel listened to the name he was pronounced, repeated it to himself, and laughed joyously at the sound. He wondered, in a moment of rapture, if this was where they had been meant to be since Castiel walked into Studio 17 and met this impossible man, whose name he now carried. He had undergone a transformation of proportions known to few, and the new man that emerged now carried a new name.

This name, was Castiel Winchester.


End file.
